BY MISS ANNA T. SADLIER : 

Idols; or, The Secret of the Rue Chaussee 
d'Antin. 

TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH OF RAOUL DE NAVERY. 

A more interesting book has never appeared in English. The action 
is highly dramatic and evenly sustained; the dialogue natural and 
sprightly; the tone thoroughly and uncompromisingly Catholic. Miss 
Sadlier has done her part well, and added to her already high reputation. 

12mo, extra cloth, ...... $1 .25 



BENZIGER BROTHERS, 

NEW YORK, CINCINNATI, AND SI LOUIS. 



Names That Live 



IN 



CATHOLIC HEARTS: 



CARDINAL XIMENES, MICHAEL ANGELO, SAMUEL DE CHAMPLAIN, 
ARCHBISHOP PLUNKETT, CHARLES CARROLL, HENRI 
DE LAROCHEJACQUELEIN, SIMON DE 
MONTFORT. 



ANNA T. SAD LI ER. 



"Lives of great men all_ remind us 
We may make our lives sublime, 
And departing, leave behind us 
Footprints on the sands of time." 

— Longfellow. 



BENZIGER BROTHERS, 



MEMOIRS OF 



py 



NEW YORK, CI 




ST. LOUIS: 



PRINTERS TO THE HOLY APOSTOLIC SEE, 



1882. 



• SB 



Copyright, 1882, by Benziger Brothers. 



INTRODUCTION. 



It was with no ordinary pleasure that I watched the progress of 
this work, which has been truly a labor of love for my daughter. Some 
four or five years have already passed since she began the present 
series of biographical sketches of illustrious Catholics, not canonized 
Saints, yet worthy of everlasting remembrance. 

How few, of our young people especially, know more than the 
names — if even so much — of Michael Angelo — of Francisco Ximenes — 
of Oliver Plunkett — of Samuel de Champlain — of Simon de Montfort 
— of Henri Larochejaquelein — of Charles Carroll of Carrollton! And 
yet each one of these names is an heirloom of the Catholic family. 
Each one held a foremost place among the men of his time, whether as 
the prince of painters, of sculptors, of architects, like Michael Angelo 
Buonarotti; as Christian statesman and* wise counsellor of kings, like 
the great Spanish Cardinal; as Martyr-prelate and faithful sentinel on 
the watch-towers of Israel in a dark and troublous time, like Oliver 
Plunkett, the last martyr of Ireland; as captains and leaders of 
Christian armies, valiant champions of the holiest of causes, like Simon 
de Montfort and Henri Larochejaquelein; as one of the founders of 
a new and eminently Christian nation amongst the yet unexplored 
forests of Northern America, like the Sieur de Champlain; as the 
high-souled, upright, and enlightened patriot, worthy of the proud dis- 
tinction of being one of the sponsors of the Great Republic of the 
West, like Charles Carroll of Carrollton! 

What stern devotion to principle, what noble disregard of selfish 
interests, what lofty chivalry in its truest sense, is manifested 
throughout the whole career of these truly great men! What a single- 
ness and unity of purpose in all, though their lots were cast in times 
so far apart, amid scenes so varied ! Some, like the heroic leader of 
La Vendee, were called early to their reward; others when mid-way 
up life's steep acclivity; while still others passed away in the ripeness 
of venerable age, crowned with years and with honors, AU,, however, 



4 



IN TROD UCTION. 



faithfully accomplished the work appointed for them by the Great 
Master of the vineyard, and went down to the grave in the glory of 
renown. 

Of these great names that truly " live in Catholic Hearts," the young 
author of these memoirs has taken from various lands the few that 
could be compressed into a small volume, for the reason that it gives 
a greater variety to the series in thus changing from one country to 
another the scene on which her illustrious actors played their heroic 
part. This, with the difference in manners, ways, and customs of the 
several nations embraced in the vast fold of the Church, and the ever- 
changing circumstances wherein the Christian people were placed at 
different periods of the world's history, contributes to give a more 
dramatic and attractive character to the work. 

It has been the author's design from the first to make her 
memoirs as little dry as possible, and to bring out, as far as strict his- 
torical truth permitted, whatever there is of high moral beauty and 
poetry in these truly noble lives, each presenting in itself a grand and 
most complete epic. 

If we would really combat the irrrmoral and anti-Christian litera- 
ture so alarmingly prevalent at this day, we must make our Catholic 
books and serials " readable." Even Catholic writers, going to work 
with the highest and purest motives, cannot afford to ignore the 
lighter elments of fancy and imagination, or dispense with the graces 
of style. 

This volume of " Names that Live in Catholic Hearts" will most 
likely be followed by one or two more of uniform size, as the author 
has still a wide range before her, in order to represent even a few of 
the other countries of Europe and America. Her female characters 
will form a separate volume. 

Commending this first volume, then, of the series to the reading 
public, and bespeaking for it a kindly welcome, I leave it to its own 
merits. 

Mary A. Sadlier. 

Montreal, Canada, March 23, 1882. 



CONTENTS. 



PAGE 



Cardinal Ximenes, Grand Chancellor of Spain 9 

Michael Angelo, Painter, Poet, Architect and Sculptor 49 

Samuel DE Champlain, Explorer and Founder of Quebec... 81 

Oliver Plunkett, Archbishop of Armagh and Primate of Ire- 
land 125 

Charles Carroll, of Carrollton, Signer of the Declaration of 

Independence 175 

Henri de Larochejaquelein, the Hero of La Vendee 217 

Simon de Montfort, Champion of the Cross and Defender of 

the Faith 251 



O thou divinely gifted man, 
Who made through strength thy merit known, 
And lived to grasp the golden keys 
To mould a mighty state's decrees. 
And shape the whisper of the throne; 
And moving up from high to higher, 
Became on Fortune's crowning slope 
The pillar of a people 's hope, 
The centre of a world's desire. 

Tennyson. 




Grand Chancellor of Spain. 

E are far back in the past ; . we thread our way 
within the ancient walls, along the picturesque 
streets, of the former capital of Spain — the 
famed Toledo. We enter through the Puerta del Sol, 
observe its massive arches, arabesque ornaments, Moorish 
inscriptions, and its vivid orange color. We pass on in 
the shadow of the tall projecting houses, which some- 
what obscure the light and modify the heat of a southern 
sun. We are struck by the coolness of the patio, a sort 
of interior courtyard, paved with many-tinted marbles, 
which add to its oriental character. This patio is at- 
tached to each dwelling, and has a temporary cover for 
the day, which is always withdrawn at night, in order 
that the balmy freshness of the Castilian night air may 
penetrate the apartment. We are lost in thought. Our 
minds are full of the old legends that cluster like dim 
shades in every nook and corner of these quaint streets; 
the pale, yet splendid ??ianes of departed kings and 
warriors throng the ambient air; but our purpose is not 
with them: their glory and their splendor and their 
power fade from before us. One giant form alone 
towers above them all, nor needs the heralds cry, "Room 
for the Cardinal." Transported in spirit to that city of 



12 



NAMES THAT LIVE. 



his fame, we will endeavor to bring into these pages, as 
clearly and concisely as possible, the chief events in the 
life of Spain's illustrious citizen, Francisco de Cisneros 
Ximenes, Archbishop of Toledo, and Prince of the 
Church. Most biographers agree that he was born in or 
about the year 1437, of a noble but impoverished family, 
in the town of Torrelaguna. He pursued his studies 
principally at the University of Salamanca, for it was the 
ardent and cherished wish of both his parents that he 
should become a priest. For some six years, we are 
told, he defrayed the expenses of his education ,by 
giving lessons in civil and canon law. Later on, we find 
him setting out for Rome to seek his fortune. Twice 
upon the journey thither he was attacked by robbers, so 
that it was through the generosity of an old school- 
fellow, whom he chanced to meet upon the road, that he 
was enabled to reach the Eternal City. Called into 
Spain by some domestic trouble, he obtained from the 
Holy Father a Bull empowering him to fill the first 
vacancy in the city of Toledo. This was a curious 
episode in Ximenes'' eventful life. The celebrated Al- 
phonso Carillo, then Archbishop of Toledo, however, 
refused to grant him the benefice. Ximenes stoutly 
maintained the higher authority of Rome, at which the 
archbishop became so incensed that he cast the young 
ecclesiastic into prison, where he remained six years. 
During this period of confinement a priest prophesied 
to him that he should one day be Archbishop of 
Toledo. 

" Father," replied Ximenes, " such a commencement 
certainly does not promise so happy an end." 

These six years of imprisonment in the strong tower 
of Uzeda seem to us fraught with interest, when we con- 
sider that the life of solitude and retirement then led by 
him may have had its influence in preparing him for 



CARDINAL XIMENES, 



53 



that wonderful hereafter. It is a fine picture: that grave 
though youthful figure, with its background of captivity 
patiently endured, thrown into strong relief by the light 
of its future greatness. 

Once released from prison, he exchanged his benefice 
for the chaplaincy of Siguenza, a neighboring diocese, 
but as the salary was larger than that of his own bene- 
fice, he arranged that the difference might be returned 
to the former chaplain of Siguenza. In a short time 
after, he so gained the esteem and good-will of his 
bishop, that he was made Grand Vicar and administrator 
of the diocese by Cardinal de Mendoza. But the Grand 
Vicar heard within him the divine call, and the whisper, 
"Come up higher." He renounced the world, and took 
the habit of a gray or Franciscan friar, in a convent of 
the Observantines, so called from their strict adherence 
to their primitive rules. The fame of his penitential 
life and great holiness crowded his confessional, and 
brought him visitors from far and near. This so dis- 
turbed him, that he retired to an obscure convent, that 
of Our Lady of Castanar, remote from all the thorough- 
fares of men, where he led a life of wonderful austerity. 
He himself, according to his chroniclers, gives us a de- 
lightful though austere picture of his life in this retreat. 
He speaks of it as a charming oasis. There he devoted 
himself to that which had always been a joy forever to 
his mind — that is, his biblical studies. Clad in a hair 
shirt, holding, as he expresses it, the Bible in one hand 
and the scourge in the other, he pondered upon eternal 
truths. While there, his elevation to the archiepiscopal 
See was again foretold. Once he was on a journey to 
Toledo with a companion, Pedro Sanchez. Night came 
on, and the belated travellers were obliged to sleep on 
the grass. Suddenly, Sanchez awoke, crying out: 

" I dreamt only a moment ago, Father Francis, that 

■ 



14 



NAMES THAT LIVE. 



you were Archbishop of Toledo, and that I saw a Car- 
dinal's hat upon your head." 

Soon after this Ximenes was removed to the Convent 
of Salzeda, of which he was shortly made guardian. 

Meanwhile, in the kingdom of Spain wonderful events 
were taking place, wars and rumors of war relating to 
the succession, till at last Ferdinand and Isabella were 
firmly seated upon the throne — they, unto whom belongs 
the glorious title of "Los Reyes Catolicos" or "their 
Catholic Majesties." Happy was Spain in the rule of 
such sovereigns, and in the glorious combination of such 
a queen as Isabella and such a prelate as Ximenes. 
But we anticipate. While the conquest of Granada was 
taking place, and the defeat of the Moors in Spain, 
Ximenes was still an humble monk in a remote Obser- 
vantine convent. 

But the queen, who had been fortunate enough to 
have for confessor the admirable and saintly Ferdinand 
de Talavera, now made Archbishop of Granada, deter- 
mined, by the advice of Cardinal Mendoza, to choose 
Ximenes to replace him. She was, however, desirous 
of seeing this man, of whom fame already spoke so 
loudly. Cardinal Mendoza brought him, under some 
pretence, into the presence of the queen, who was 
charmed with his modest yet dignified appearance, his 
candor, his piety, and noble sentiments. When, a day 
or two after, his appointment as Royal Confessor was 
made known to him, he at first refused the honor. By 
the queen's special command he, however, accepted it, 
upon condition that he would be allowed to live at his 
convent, and only come to court when his presence was 
absolutely required.* 

He was spoken of even then by contemporaries as 



Dr. Hefele's Life of Ximenes, chap. iii. pp. 28-29. 



CARDINAL XIMENES. 



15 



" equal in wisdom to St. Augustine, in austerity of life 
to St. Jerome, and in zeal to St. Ambrose." A courtier 
of the day* speaks of him thus: 

" A man of great sanctity," he says, " has come from 
the depths of a lonesome solitude; he is wasted away by 
his austerities, and resembles the ancient anchorites, St. 
Paul and St. Hilarion." 

During all this time Ximenes was occupied in reform- 
ing abuses which had crept into his Order. His zeal 
was untiring; accompanied by his secretary, Brother 
Francisco Ruyz, he visited all the monasteries on foot, 
only occasionally in case of illness mounting upon a 
mule. As far as possible he adhered to the spirit of the 
rule, which prescribed that they should support them- 
selves by begging. It is related that his secretary upon 
one occasion said to him, laughing: 

"Most Reverend Father, you will certainly be the 
cause of our dying of hunger ! God gives to every one 
his particular talent. Do you meditate and pray for me, 
while I am begging for you." 

It was about this time, too, that he ardently desired 
permission of the queen and his superiors to become an 
apostle among the Moors. But a holy woman, one of 
those called Beatce, declared to him that it was the will 
of God he should remain in Spain, where a glorious 
career was reserved for him. It is needless to follow the 
Franciscan in all the trials attendant upon the reforms 
he desired to make, and in which the queen earnestly 
assisted him. He had, in fact, been chosen Provincial 
of his Order, with a view to the correction of abuses 

A new path was, however, marked out for him. Car- 
dinal Mendoza, Archbishop of Toledo, died in 1495, and 
left vacant the richest and most important See in the 



* Alvarez, in a letter to Peter Martyr. 



16 



NAMES THAT LIVE. 



whole of Spain. So important was it. that this arch- 
bishop was regarded as being second onh^ to the king in 
power and influence. It is said that Mendoza named 
Ximenes, both to the Papal authorities and their 
Majesties, as his fitting successor. Be this as it may, on 
Good Friday of the same year, when the Franciscan 
appeared in the queen's presence, after having heard her 
confession, she said to him, at the same time presenting 
the Papal Bulls: 

" Reverend Father, you will see by these letters what 
are the commands of his Holiness." Ximenes kissed the 
documents respectfully, but on opening them, and ob- 
serving the superscription: " To our venerable brother, 
Francisco Ximenes de Cisneros, Archbishop-elect of To- 
ledo," he turned deadly pale, and immediately left the 
room without taking leave of the queen. Isabella merely 
said: 

"Allow me to see what his Holiness has written to 
you." Ximenes, however, had rushed out in haste to 
seek his companion Francisco Ruyz, saying : " Come, 
brother, we must leave here without delay." * 

When the queen sent two of her head chamberlains to 
his convent in Madrid, to inform him officially of his new 
dignity, he was far on his way to Ocana. In fine, the 
queen was compelled to write to the Pope concerning 
Ximenes' refusal to accept the archbishopric, and the 
Pope was compelled to send him a Papal brief com- 
manding him in virtue of obedience, before he would 
consent to undertake these new and great responsi- 
bilities. 

He was then almost sixty years of age, and he shrank 
from the burden laid upon him. Earthly honors had no 



* Dr. Hefele's Life of Ximenes, p. 40. Flechier, 35, 36, 37. Gomez, 

10. 11. Robles, 76, 77. 



CARDINAL XIMENES. 1 7 

charms for him, and it was with marked reluctance that 
he allowed himself to be consecrated, at a convent of his 
Order at Tarazona, in presence of the king and queen. 
After the consecration, he came, according to custom, to 
kiss the hands of the king and queen. In doing so he 
used these characteristic words: 

. " I come to kiss the hands of your Majesties, not be- 
cause they have raised me to the first See in Spain, but 
because I hope they will assist me in supporting the 
burden which they have placed upon my shoulders." 

We are told by various biographers that the king and 
queen were deeply moved, and that they as well as all 
the grandees of the court kissed the bishop's consecrated 
hands, and knelt to receive his blessing. After this he 
was conducted with all due state to his palace." * 

Public events, however, required his presence at the 
court or at Alcala, so that it was not until two years 
afterwards, 1497, that he took possession of his Cathedral 
of Toledo. He would willingly have entered at night 
and in silence, but was forced to submit to the desire of 
the people for a public demonstration. 

That glorious scene is before us. We, too, are present, 
and mingle with the breathless multitude. They hail 
the name of Ximenes with acclamation. They behold 
him, with scarcely repressed enthusiasm, as he treads 
with unwilling feet that new path of glory opening be- 
fore him. We are in the Cathedral, that gorgeous mon- 
ument of Spanish piety and munificence; the naves, five 
in number, are decorated with a mingled beauty and 
magnificence worthy the earthly dwelling of the King of 
kings. In the middle or grand nave is the retablo, or 
high altar, of massive carvings and dark panelling, on 
which rare paintings with golden backgrou 'ds catch 



* Hefele, p. 39. 



i8 



NAMES THAT LIVE. 



every gleam and glint of sunlight. How the brilliance 
of innumerable tapers sparkles and glows amid the dull 
gold of that curious old retablo / how the alabaster tombs 
of the dead sovereigns * gleam with unearthly white- 
ness! how the polished jasper columns reflect the light 
from below! Gorgeous embroidered banners are every- 
where unfurled; the gloom of the Cathedral is warm 
with mellow light from the painted windows, and their 
heavy clusters of emeralds, rubies, and sapphires form a 
picture of light and shadow, rich and glorious as the 
colors of an oriental sunset. There was a dead pause, 
and a burst of triumphant, indescribable music from the 
organs on either side of the choir. It filled the vast 
edifice to repletion; it thundered through nave and 
chancel; it woke each slumbering echo, and it fell upon 
the hearts of the worshippers, rousing them to almost 
irrepressible enthusiasm. O God ! how grandly was 
Thy name glorified on that thrice-hallowed day! O 
Ximenes, how even thy glory was annihilated in presence 
of the Most High! 

The procession entered the church. Breathless, the 
awe-stricken multitude looked upon the face of one who, 
henceforth, held Spain's mightiest destinies in his hand. 
Among all that noble array of sovereigns and nobles and 
prelates and ministers, we discern the tall, spare figure, 
austere countenance, and lofty mien of the new Grand 
Chancellor of Spain. The rest fade almost to insignifi- 
cance — even the princely and chivalrous Ferdinand, the 
fair and gentle Isabella, called by some the most beauti- 
ful woman of her day. There is a visible thrill of 
enthusiasm among the people. The organ's deep voice 
again breaks the momentary stillness with a crash; the 
procession reaches the high altar; the archbishop falls 



Don Alvar de Luna and his wife. 



CARDINAL XIMENES. 



19 



prostrate on the marble steps, first to acknowledge the 
littleness of human things. 

Arising, he takes, in a firm and unwavering voice, the 
solemn oath to maintain all the rights and laws of the 
Cathedral of Toledo. This done, Don Francisco seats 
himself for the first time in the great carved chair, 
rising like a throne above the rows of stalls within the 
choir. During the concluding ceremonies he sits with 
bowed head, as if the weight of human glory were op- 
pressive to him. Scarcely is the celebration ended when 
he escapes into the cloisters. There fresh breezes come 
from the mountains of Castilia; there gentle sights of 
nature with her varied charms meet the eye through 
those dull gray arches; and there, sweetest of all, reigns 
peace, deep peace, the peace of God. 

Such scenes as this remind us of the saying of a 
modern author,* that "from whatever side the Middle 
Ages are viewed, they present an aspect of unapproach- 
able grandeur." 

After his elevation to this great dignity, Ximenes con- 
tinued to lead the simple and penitential life of a poor 
Franciscan friar. He still appeared publicly in the 
habit of his Order, went everywhere on foot or riding 
on a mule, and permitted not a trace of state or splendor 
about his dwelling. At length the Pope was obliged to 
interfere. The habits of the times, the manners of the 
people, accustomed to associate authority with outward 
ceremony, forbade this simplicity of life in a man of 
exalted station. The archbishop complied with the in- 
structions of the Pope: he appeared before the public in 
rich garments, while wearing underneath a hair shirt; 
he spread his table on state occasions sumptuously, but 
continued to partake himself of such food as was used 



*Alzog., Church Hist., vol. ii. p. 1066. 



20 



NAMES THAT LIVE. 



by the humblest friars of his Order; provided luxurious 
couches for his guests, but slept himself on a board. 
This latter fact, which he kept strenuously secret, was 
accidentally discovered by his servant. So appalling 
were the austerities he practised, that it is said the Pope 
was again obliged to counsel moderation. 

At the moment of his accession to power, Don Fran- 
cisco began a long series of benefits to the Church and 
State, which ended only with his death. To enume- 
rate them within our present limits seems, indeed, a 
hopeless task. But we shall endeavor to point out faith- 
fully and conscientiously his chief claims to the reverence 
and gratitude of humanity. We have already referred 
to his simple and austere mode of life, but cannot refrain 
from dwelling a moment longer on those private virtues 
which throw into such strong relief the grandeur of his 
public character. He was wont to offer up the sacrifice 
of the mass every day, and to assist as often as possible 
at the offices of the Church. In one corner of the mighty 
realm he commanded, cathedral, palace, kingdom, was a 
"small, dim chapel." This was his favorite place of 
prayer. In its cloistral seclusion he found the rest and 
peace he had once so loved at Our Lady of Castafiar. 
He wore at his wrist a small crucifix, which from time to 
time during the day he drew out and looked upon most 
lovingly. He deemed it a preservation from sin. He 
kept himself surrounded by learned and pious men, with 
whom he could discourse on the things of God, and he 
made an annual retreat in a convent of his Order to re- 
new and strengthen his fervor. 

He applied himself seriously to reforms among the 
clergy and religious Orders. He held Synods at Alcan- 
tara and Alcala, where he laid down salutary rules for 
the guidance of his priests. The various details of these 
assemblies do not enter into the purpose of our sketch, 



CARDINAL XIMENES. 



21 



but those who are versed in the ecclesiastical history of 
Spain at this period will understand the importance of 
the measures adopted by Ximenes for the preservation 
of good order and discipline throughout the kingdom. 
Suffice it to say, that by these reforms alone he merits 
the gratitude and respect of all true Spaniards and Cath- 
olics. We must necessarily omit many particulars which 
might be of interest to our readers, such as the great 
Archbishop's address to his clergy, reminding them of 
his unworthiness, and asking the co-operation of their 
prayers, as also any detailed account of the opposition 
which met him everywhere, and the triads which he had 
to endure. For the great man did not escape the com- 
mon penalty of greatness. His reforms were opposed 
on every side, his actions criticised, his motives ques- 
tioned. All this he bore with heroic fortitude. When 
urged to discover and punish the authors of the libels 
circulated against him, he replied, " When a man is in 
power, and has nothing wherewith to reproach himself, 
the wisest course he can pursue is to permit the people 
to enjoy the poor consolation of avenging their wrongs 
by words." 

As an instance of the justice and firmness which char- 
acterized his administration, we may relate the following 
incident which took place soon after his elevation. He 
was petitioned to confirm Don Pedro de Mendoza in the 
government of Cazorla. Now this Don Pedro was the 
brother of the late Cardinal, who had been in some sort 
Ximenes's protector. Those who advanced the petition 
referred to his obligations to the deceased prelate, and, 
moreover, urged the queen's desire. But Ximenes 
calmly replied that, as Chancellor of Spain, he acknowl- 
edged no private ties; that his sovereign might send him 
back to his convent, whither he was willing to depart on 
the instant, but that no personal considerations should 



22 



NAMES THAT LIVE. 



ever operate with him in distributing the honors of the 
Church. Soon after, however, having found Don Pedro 
worthy, he confirmed him in his office. Every day the 
palace gates were thronged with mendicants, and at an 
appointed hour the good Archbishop appeared among 
them, reading petitions, distributing alms, and giving to 
every one a patient and kindly hearing. Little wonder 
that his name is still revered in his Cathedral city, re- 
maining forever dear to its humblest inhabitants. 

Busy, indeed, was his life, for, besides his ecclesiasti- 
cal reforms, he undertook to inquire into the course of 
justice, and repiace all unworthy judges by men of tried 
integrity and personal merit. He was the constant ad- 
viser of the royal consorts upon the most intimate affairs 
of state, some of which in the course of our narrative 
we may have occasion to mention incidentally. 

Shortly after his accession he began to devote himself 
to the chief aim of his existence, namely, the conversion 
of the Moors. Patiently, untiringly, perseveringly he 
labored, sparing himself no personal toil. It is said that 
he himself made fifty thousand converts. Among many 
means which he employed to attain this end, we may men- 
tion his custom of inviting the chief Moorish priests, or 
alfaquis, to his palace, where he discussed with them the 
mysteries of faith, and often succeeded in convincing 
them. The conversion of the alfaquis led to the conver- 
sion of the Moorish people. One day of triumph at last 
is recorded for Ximenes, and bursting again the bond of 
time and space, we shall assist thereat in spirit. A 
mighty multitude is assembled; there is a sound of mar- 
tial music, and the great Archbishop appears. Where- 
fore has he come ? Wherefore do the trumpets sound 
those strains of exultation ? Is it some kingdom con- 
quered ? Do sad-faced captives from foreign shores 
follow in the train of the conqueror? The kingdom 



CARDINAL XIMENES. 



23 



conquered is the souls of men, and the captives are 
those who bend to the sweet yoke of Jesus Christ. 
Four thousand souls, purchased by the agony of a God, 
are baptized unto Christ. Ah, noble Ximenes ! our 
hearts are throbbing with yours; while the multitude 
are swaying like a mighty and resistless sea, drums beat, 
trumpets sound, cannons boom, and the Archbishop pours 
upon each dusky forehead the life-giving waters of the 
first sacrament. The Koran and the paradise of the 
houris is lost to them, but heaven is their inheritance and 
God their portion forever. There is a sound, too, which 
startles the air of that dim and dusky Granada — the peal 
of joyful bells. The clangor awakes mingled feelings in 
the souls of the Moors, for those voices, long silent, tell of 
the downfall of their race. Well might they name Ximenes 
" Alfaqui Campanero," for he it was who had again in- 
troduced the bells into Granada, and contributed more 
than any other to implant there the Christian faith.* 

But when the last of the four thousand Moorish con- 
verts had been baptized, another ceremony still remained 
to be performed. A fire is enkindled: the smoke rises in 
dusky cloud-racks, as an offering in the sight of the Most 
High, and the flames close around great piles of volumes 
containing the delusive doctrines of Mahomet, f Moor- 
ish men and matrons and maidens are witnesses of the 
deed. We look in vain for one expression of regret when 
they behold the treasured Koran cast into the flames. 
Yet it was once their only hope; once yielded them un- 
mixed delight. Now they turn away from it; they need 
it not: the Gospel, the parables of Jesus, the inspired 
wisdom of the Doctor of the Gentiles, is their inexhausti- 
ble store. Bravely they have left the broad and flowery 



* The doctrines of Mahomet forbade the ringing of bells. 
\ Dublin University Magazine for 1854. 



24 



NAMES THAT LIVE. 



path upon which they had trodden, and entered upon the 
narrow road to life eternal. All around them their new 
brethren in Christ are trampling its rocks and thorns 
and brambles under their feet, with Ximenes valiantly 
leading the van. 

When we are upon the subject of these Moorish con- 
versions, it may be well to take a brief glance at the mis- 
representation and injustice to which the great Cardinal 
has been exposed in this regard. Protestant historians 
have shamefully maligned him, the while they themselves 
do justice to his resplendent virtues and glorious quali- 
ties of head and heart. A recent writer* aptly remarks 
" that none but a Catholic can fully appreciate Ximenes." 
The very severity with which he is charged was a neces- 
sary outcome of the times in which he lived. The meas- 
ures that might have been applied with complete success 
in the nineteenth century would have fallen far short of 
their object in the sixteenth. Another learned author f 
remarks, "that to be just to the Middle Ages we must 
judge them by the principles and ideas of those times, 
and not of our own." And what we have said of him 
applies to that formidable and much-belied institution, 
the Spanish Inquisition. It has been said, and with jus- 
tice, that perhaps no institution connected with the Cath- 
olic Church, save and except the Society of Jesus, has 
been so hated, denounced, abused, and calumniated by 
Protestants and infidels as the Inquisition. J But when 
we consider that our chief means of information upon 
this subject are taken from writers hostile to the Church, 
and that the famous Llorente, its principal historian, him- 
self admits that he destroyed all documents relating to it, 



* Dalton, in his Preface to Hefele's Ximenes. 

f Alzog, Ch. Hist., vol. iv. p. 197. 

% Dalton, Preface to Hefele's Ximenes. 



CARDINAL XIMENES. 



2$ 



we must look with the greatest distrust upon all assertions 
made with regard to this celebrated tribunal. We must 
also consider, in the words of a learned historian, "that 
in the middle ages, when the two powers, Church and 
State, were expected by the people to work in harmony 
together, a policy towards heretics was pursued, and a 
personal surveillance was exercised over them, which led 
to the establishment of the Inquisition, an institution 
which has been the object of more misrepresentation and 
erroneous judgment than any other known to history."* 
We have touched thus briefly upon an important subject 
upon which, were time and space at our command, we 
would gladly dwell, because in 1507 Ximenes was ap- 
pointed Grand Inquisitor of Leon and Castile. The 
Archbishop accepted the office, for his clear mind dis- 
cerned that violence and disorder prevailed at the time 
in all those countries where this tribunal was not estab- 
lished. The heretics of those days were in nearly all 
countries, but more especially Spain, the enemies of the 
existing government. The unconverted Moors forever 
remained the dangerous foes of their Christian masters. 
It is an undoubted fact that the primary ends of the In- 
quisition were good, and that wherever abuses crept in, 
it was through the fault of individuals or of the civil au- 
thorities. In such cases the Pope frequently interfered 
with the whole weight of his influence, and gave asylum 
to many of its victims at Rome. As to Ximenes, we 
have the testimony of the before-named Llorente, a 
chronicler who is the avowed enemy, to use his own ex- 
pression, "of whatever savors of the leaven of ultramon- 
tanism," to prove with what moderation the Cardinal 
filled this post. 

" Ximenes," he says, " endeavored to lessen the severity 



* Alzog's Hist, of the Universal Church, vol. h\, p. 668. 



26 



NAMES THAT LIVE. 



of the Inquisition, deposed bad functionaries, and par- 
doned many accused persons." 

Mildly, however, as he may have performed the duties 
of his office, and grossly as the severity practised by that 
tribunal has been exaggerated by anti-Catholic writers, 
we love to look upon the brighter side of the Moorish 
conversions in Spain. There is a peculiar softness and 
beauty in the picture of Ximenes and Talavera side by 
side teaching catechism to the Moorish children and con- 
verts, or in that of the devotion and affection displayed 
by Zegri, a converted Moorish priest, to the Grand In- 
quisitor. 

In this year, 1507, Pope Julius II. sent the Cardinal's 
hat to Ximenes, with the title of Cardinal of Spain. 
The news of this nomination was received with the 
greatest enthusiasm by the sovereigns and people of 
Spain. But as for the new Cardinal, the burden of 
earthly honors only weighed him down, only clogged 
the ardent spirit that in the height of glory would fain 
have returned to the calm obscurity of the cloister, or 
ionged that the too solid flesh might be dissolved, and 
he be with Christ. Still, under the Cardinal's robes he 
wore a hair shirt and the habit of St. Francis; still, he 
lived upon one frugal meal a day, and slept upon a 
plank, the while he labored in the heat and burthen of 
the day, and toiled in the rugged places of this earthly 
life. 

Alone amid thousands, he towered above his fellow- 
men in solitary grandeur, "a soaring solitude of woods 
and snows all steeped in golden light." His gaze was 
fixed upon the domes of the far-off city; the distance 
was hourly lessening, and through the gates of pearl 
came to him at intervals strains from the choral of 
the spheres. What mattered it, therefore, if the way 
were long, and the pilgrim's feet bleeding from the 



CARDINAL XIMENES. 



2/ 



thorns and briars and brambles that line the narrow- 
road. 

Meanwhile he busied himself w T ith w r orks of public 
utility. An oppressive tax called the Alcavala weighed 
upon the people. To redress this grievance the Grand 
Chancellor did all that lay within his power. A famine 
threatened the land, and Ximenes erected public grana- 
ries at Toledo, Alcala, and Torrelaguna, and had them 
filled at his own expense. But of his numerous founda- 
tions we shall speak more particularly hereafter. The 
hearts of the people were filled with the deepest grati- 
tude, and they studied how they might best preserve 
his memory. A memorial of the benefit he had thus 
conferred upon his country was engraved upon the walls 
of the senate chamber, and in one of the public squares. 

In this interval many important public events had 
taken place, especially those connected with the partition 
of Naples, the sending of Peter Martyr as envoy to the 
Sultan, who threatened the kingdom of Spain as a re- 
prisal for what he had been led to regard as Spanish 
cruelty towards the Moors. This mission was entirely 
successful. There were also various outbreaks among 
the unconverted Moors inhabiting the Sierras, and many 
other affairs of state, in which Ximenes gave all possible 
support to his sovereigns. Some two or three years 
before his elevation to the cardinalate he was seized 
with a severe fit of illness, during which he experienced 
the greatest kindness and attention from the king and 
queen. At their request and by the command of his 
physician, he allowed himself to be removed from the 
Alhambra to the royal summer residence at Xeneralifa. 
But his malady showed no signs of abating, till Fran- 
cisca, a Moorish convert, who had married some one in 
the Archbishop's service, brought thither an old woman 
of eighty, who succeeded in curing Ximenes by the use 



28 



NAMES THAT LIVE. 



of powerful herbs and ointments. In eight days he was 
able to breathe the pure air of the river Dano, and soon 
after to return to Alcala.* 

An interesting account is given of the reception of the 
Archduke Philip and his consort Joanna, in the city of 
Toledo, on their arrival in Spain. It was in the month 
of May, and nature and art alike combined to adorn the 
quaint old capital. The Archbishop, in full pontifical 
robes, met the young couple at the entrance to the 
cathedral, and offered them a magnificent cross " resplen- 
dent with gold and precious stones," which they knelt be- 
fore and respectfully kissed. Some days later occurred 
the ceremony of offering homage. This was also cele- 
brated in the cathedral, where Cardinal Diego Hurtado 
Mendoza, nephew of the former Cardinal of that name, 
officiated. He first advanced to offer his homage, fol- 
lowed by Ximenes, all the various dignitaries of the 
Church, and the civil authorities. 

It is recorded that on the birthday of Joanna's son, af- 
terwards Ferdinand I., Ximenes having met a criminal 
on his way to the gallows, rushed to obtain his pardon 
from the queen. But this is only one of many incidents 
related as to the personal benevolence of the Cardinal. 
A great sorrow was, however, in preparation for Xime- 
nes. The queen's health began to fail, and at times she 
was confined to her bed for days together. It was then 
that an Italian noble told Ferdinand " that he had come 
to Spain to see a woman who from her bed of sickness 
ruled the world." Many foreigners in fact flocked 
thither to see her, and one of them, Vianelli, relates the 
following anecdote of Ximenes. This Venetian pos- 
sessed a ring which he offered for sale to Ximenes. The 
latter inquired its price. He was told 5000 ducats. 



* Hefele, p. 81. Gomez, Book II. 



CARDINAL XIMENES. 29 

"With such a sum," said he, "if would be infinitely 
better to do good to five thousand poor people than to 
possess all the diamonds of India." 

But about this time he received a most valuable pres- 
ent. A Franciscan monk came on an embassy from 
the Sultan to their Majesties. He brought with him a 
stone from the Holy Sepulchre, which he caused to be 
divided into five altar stones — one for the Pope, one for 
the Queen of Spain, one for King Emmanuel of Portugal, 
one for Cardinal Carvajal, and the last for Ximenes. 
The Archbishop vowed never to use any other stone upon 
which to say Mass during his life, and resolutely kept 
his word. After his death it was preserved in the Cathe- 
dral of Toledo. 

When he took leave of the queen she said to him, " I 
hope very shortly to be able to follow you to Toledo." 
But these were her last words to him. In November, 
1504, three years before Ximenes was made cardinal, a 
terrible blow was dealt to the Spanish nation. The 
royal-hearted Isabella died — the type, model, and most 
excellent pattern of a sovereign. It is not here the 
place to speak her panegyric — a panegyric spoken alike 
by Protestant and Catholic historians. Her reign was 
rendered illustrious by the simple fact that m it shone 
three such men as Columbus, the discoverer of America; 
Cordova, surnamed "El gran Capitano;" and Ximenes, 
the great Cardinal. The death of Isabella was a source 
of great grief to the Archbishop, for apart from the per- 
sonal esteem and affection with which he regarded her 
she had always assisted him in his schemes for the pro- 
motion of science and art. Isabella's love for learning 
was indeed only surpassed by that of Ximenes. 

In the struggles which followed upon the death of 
Isabella, Ximenes bore a prominent part. He always 
took the side of Ferdinand against the unjust preten- 



30 



NAMES THAT LIVE. 



sions of Philip, who had married Joanna, heiress to the 
throne; but he was treated with the greatest respect and 
deference by both claimants for the crown. He was for 
a time entrusted with the administration of affairs in 
conjunction with several of the principal nobles even be- 
fore the death of Philip, and during the absence of the 
king in Italy. As a statesman he was far-seeing, saga- 
cious, and just, and held by many writers, both ancient 
and modern, to have far surpassed Richelieu. It was in 
fact through the intervention of Ximenes that a recon- 
ciliation was brought about between Philip, who was 
now sovereign of Spain, and Ferdinand, who had been 
named in the queen's will " sole regent of Castile" till 
her grandson Charles should come of age. 

On the occasion of their meeting, Ximenes accom- 
panied Philip, who came with the greatest pomp and 
ceremony, whilst Ferdinand, on the other hand, ap- 
peared simply apparelled and attended. During their 
interview Ximenes kept all the courtiers away, wishing 
that the two sovereigns might come to a full understand- 
ing, and saying to the attendants, 

"I will myself stand sentinel at the door." 

Ximenes' presence was now frequently required at 
Court, where he exercised a most salutary influence 
upon Philip, advised him against evil counsellors, and 
moreover succeeded in putting an end to long and san- 
guinary feuds between such houses as the Benavante and 
Mendoza. 

After the death of Philip, he, aware of the total inca- 
pacity of the queen, made strenuous efforts to induce 
Ferdinand to return, but for some time without avail. 
During this interregnum, despite the unsettled and un- 
disciplined state of the country, the childish and foolish 
interference of the demented queen and the intrigues of 



CARDINAL XIMENES. 3 1 

the nobles, Ximenes governed the country with wisdom 
and discretion. 

Though age and disease and his herculean labors had 
begun to tell upon the once vigorous frame of the Cardi- 
nal, he still toiled unremittingly. He formed the citi- 
zens into a well-trained and powerful militia, which, 
without interfering with their various employments, 
gave to Spain an honest, moral, and trustworthy force 
of 30,000 men, far surpassing in every respect the cor- 
rupt and degraded soldiery in other countries where 
standing armies were in existence. 

Various outbreaks on the part of the Moors also in- 
duced him to carry the war into Africa, where he hoped 
to effect the double purpose of defending Spain from 
their future incursions, and carrying the light of the 
Gospel among them. The nation, like frightened chil- 
dren, had come to the Cardinal's feet, and the Cardinal 
had fitted out an expedition at his own expense. He 
gave the command to Pietro Navarro, a rough soldier 
but skilful general. A fleet of eighty vessels sailed 
from Carthagena, and Ximenes went with it to encour- 
age the soldiers by his presence. In 1609 occurred the 
memorable battle of Oran. The Spanish troops landed 
on the African shore May 17th, and at evening of the 
following day the town of Oran was theirs. Before the 
army marched up to the walls, the Cardinal, in full pon- 
tifical robes, mounted on a superb charger, and preceded 
by a Franciscan bearing the Episcopal cross, harangued 
the soldiers, exhorting them in a glowing address by all 
that they held dearest, home, country, faith, and God, to 
combat bravely, reminding them that the contest was, 
as it were, between Christ and Mahomet, between true 
religion and infidelity. Immediately after he retired to 
the oratory of San Miguel, in the adjoining fortress, and 



52 



NAMES THAT LIVE. 



prostrating himself upon the altar steps, like another 
Joshua, uplifted his hands in supplication. On the fol- 
lowing day Oran was carried by assault, and the Cardi- 
nal entered the gates, preceded by the clergy chanting 
the Psalm, "Non nobis" — "Not unto us, O Lord ! but 
unto Thy name be glory given." His generous heart was 
rejoiced by the liberation of three hundred Christian 
captives, but seeing the number of dead lying on the 
ground, he burst into tears, exclaiming: 

"They were indeed infidels, but they might have be- 
come Christians. By their death they have deprived 
me of the principal advantage of the victory we have 
gained over them." * 

We are assured by many biographers that " Ximenes 
possessed all the requisite qualities of a general — an in- 
vincible courage and an admirable prudence united with 
a mind fruitful in resources. "\ Ferdinand appears to 
have been of this opinion, for he gave the entire com- 
mand of the expedition into the Cardinal's hands, which 
gave rise to the contemptuous saying on the part of the 
grandees, that 

"The world was turned upside down; and that while 
the great captain (Cordova) was telling his beads in 
Valladolid, the Franciscan Father was preparing for 
battles and sieges." 

At the siege of Oran, Sousa, a captain of the Cardi- 
dinal's guard, planted the standard of his master on the 
highest tower of the fortifications, crying, 

"Santiago y Ximenes." 

At Alcala, Ximenes was received with the greatest 
honor on his return from Africa. But we are told that 



* Dublin University Magazine for 1854. Hefele and other biogra- 
phers. 

f Hefele. Gomez. 



CARDINAL XIMENES. 



33 



the students and professors at the university were aston- 
ished to hear him speak rather of learning and art than 
of wars and conquests. One of them made some allusion 
to his wan and worn appearance, to which Ximenes re- 
plied, his pale face glowing with wonderful ardor : 

" You do not know, Fernando, the strength and vigor 
which God has given me. Had my army been faithful 
to me, pale and emaciated as you see me, I should have 
hastened at this moment to plant the Cross of Christ in 
all the chief cities of Africa." It is related that the af- 
fection which he always felt for the town of Oran was 
truly touching. He spoke of it as " the dear Christian 
oasis in a desert of infidelity." Long after his death the 
Moors had a legend among them, that a gigantic figure 
in a Franciscan habit and cardinal's hat was seen to 
urge the Spaniards on to victory. 

In 15 16 Ferdinand also died and went to his rest, 
after having first appointed Ximenes regent — an appoint- 
ment which was confirmed by the Archduke Charles, 
afterwards the Emperor Charles V., who was then in 
Flanders, and could not at present be declared king, as 
his mother was still alive. The Cardinal was now eighty 
years of age, and it would have seemed might have been 
allowed to enter into repose in the peaceful land of 
Beulah, that poetic region of the perpetual songs of 
birds and the ceaseless bloom of flowers, the country 
that skirts the dismal river be)^ond which are the streets 
of gold and the amaranthine walls of the Eternal City. 
But henceforth Ximenes labored still more unweariedly. 
He was shortly called upon to put down a conspiracy 
which had arisen among some of the most influential 
lords against the power of Charles. It was at this time, 
and in consequence of this insurrection, that the seat of 
government was transferred to Madrid, which afterwards 
became capital of the kingdom. At this time, too, 



34 



NAMES THAT LIVE. 



Ximenes received a letter from Charles, in which occurs 
the following passage referring to the will of his grand- 
father, Ferdinand: 

"The most excellent clause we have found in the Tes- 
tament is that by which you, Most Reverend Sir, are, 
during Dur absence, entrusted with the government of 
the kingdom and the administration of justice. Indeed, 
Most Reverend Sir, if this had not been already done we 
could, considering your integrity, wisdom, and zeal for 
God and ourselves, not have selected for this office a man 
who would give greater satisfaction to our conscience 
and in whose hands the weal of our kingdoms could be 
safer." * 

Ximenes experienced much opposition at the hands of 
the Grand Constable, the Infantado, and many other of 
the principal nobles. When exaggerated reports came 
to his ears of the great uprising which was in prepara- 
tion, he said calmly, 

" These men have only words, not money, to raise a 
revolt." 

And an anecdote, which does not, however, seem to be 
very well authenticated, is related, that when some of 
these nobles waited on him to know his intentions re- 
specting the government of the kingdom, he led them 
to a window, and showing the soldiers and artillery, 
said, 

" Behold the powers by which I govern Castile, by the 
will of the king, my lord and master !" 

He was soon after compelled to send a force, under 
the Duke de Najara, against Jean d'Albret, the exiled 
King of Navarre, who, aided by the King of France, was 
seeking to recover his territory. After a short but de- 
cisive struggle the Navarrese were totally defeated, and 



Peter Martyr, Ep. 569. Gomez, p. 1073. Hefele, 459. 



CARDINAL XIMENES. 35 

d'Albret was compelled to retire into the Province of 
Bearn. We are told that the Castilians were fully satis- 
isfied with the measures employed by him for the safety 
of their kingdom. Scarcely was the danger passed when 
intrigues were discovered between France and Portugal 
to the detriment of Spain Hadrian, to whom the treas- 
onable documents were handed in the absence of Xi- 
menes, was frightened by their contents, and sent them 
post haste to the regent. Ximenes read them through 
carefully, and said, 

" Tell Hadrian that he may rest in peace. I undertake 
to face the danger." 

A serious revolt at Malaga was by his wisdom and 
prudence terminated amicably. He at first exhorted 
the insurgents to return to their allegiance, but finding 
remonstrance useless, despatched Don Antonio Cueva 
with a force of 6000 infantry and 400 horse against the 
rebellious town, which submitted without bloodshed. A 
second insurrection at Arevalo was likewise quickly put 
down, Ximenes obstinately refusing to give up to Queen 
Germaine the fortified towns which she demanded. 
After the contest, Ximenes hastened to obtain pardon 
from the king for the chief rebel, Count Gutierre Velas- 
quez of Cuellar. He next sent a body of eight thousand 
men with the requisite vessels against Horac Barbarossa, 
a daring and successful pirate, who had succeeded in 
rousing a portion of the Saracens against their Spanish 
masters. Owing to the incompetency of the generals, 
this expedition, however, completely failed. But his 
services to Spain during the period of administration, as 
indeed during the whole course of his long life, were so 
many and so varied, that they would easily fill volumes. 
The reforms that he accomplished, the bad functionaries 
that he deposed, the exemplary men that he placed in 
office, his military expeditions, his abolishing of oppres- 



36 



NAMES THAT LIVE. 



sive taxes, would be tedious to enumerate. With a mo- 
mentary glance at his part in the American missions, we 
will devote the remaining pages of our sketch to his 
principal foundations, and more especially those two, so 
dear to fame, the Complutensian Polyglot and the Uni- 
versity of Alcala. 

It will be remembered that Columbus appeared before 
the King and Queen of Spain, somewhere about the time 
when Ximenes was entering upon his glorious career as 
confessor to the queen. So that with the earlier mis- 
sions sent out to evangelize the Indians of the New 
World the Cardinal had little or nothing to do, though 
some few years afterwards a number of priests were 
undoubtedly despatched there by his advice and direc- 
tion. It was not, however, till he became Regent of Cas- 
tile that he was enabled to actively co-operate in the 
conversion of the aborigines. He then appointed Las 
Casas, with three chosen monks of the Jeronymite Order, 
to labor among the Indians. To them he gave very pre- 
cise commands as to the treatment of the natives; bade 
the monks impress upon these poor people that they 
were special objects of solicitude to the Regent of Cas- 
tile and the Spanish Government; commanded them to 
procure the erection of villages for the Indians, in each 
of which there must be a church and school. These vil- 
lages were to be erected in the neighborhood of mines, 
wherein the natives were to be employed. In fact the 
wisdom and foresight of these detailed instructions for 
the treatment of savages in a foreign land strike us with 
astonishment. Some years later fourteen Franciscan 
monks went thither, one of whom was brother to the 
King of Scotland. Ximenes gave them every facility for 
their voyage, and urged them to persevere in their holy 
undertaking. 

About this time negro slaves were in great request in 



CARDINAL XIMENES. 



37 



the colonies, and it was represented to Ximenes that if 
this trade were permitted it would be of the greatest 
advantage to Spain, and a source of great wealth to the 
kingdom. But Ximenes sternly forbade it, exerted all 
his influence against it, and issued an edict forbidding 
all importation of negro slaves.'* 

Among the events which marked his regency was the 
total overthrow of the rebellious nobles under the Duke 
of Alva and Giron. The town of Villadefredes, where 
the insurgents had shut themselves up, was burned by 
order of Sarmento, who conducted the siege. Giron, his 
son Roderick, and others, were found guilty of high 
treason, but were afterwards pardoned at the solicita- 
tion of Ximenes. In the celebrated troubles about the 
Priorate of Consuegra, which belonged to the Order 
of St. John of Jerusalem, and which the Duke of Alva 
claimed for his son against Antonio Zuniga, who had 
been for years Grand Master, Charles wrote to Ximenes 
from Flanders to support Zuniga in his authority. To 
the great terror of the nobles and grandees, Ximenes 
therefore seized upon the Priory by force of arms. When 
Fonseca, one of the principal nobles, remonstrated with 
him, representing the danger of a revolt, Ximenes re- 
plied: 

" Be composed, Fonseca. I will so arrange matters 
that everything shall end well." 

And they did end well, for Alva was induced to accept 
the king's terms, which he had hitherto so steadfastly 
refused to do. 

Just after a visit which the Cardinal had paid to Tor- 
relaguna, his native place, in August, 15 17, when he 
passed on to Bozeguillas, a mountainous region, it is 
said that an attempt was made to poison him. A masked 



* Hefele, p. 514. 



33 



NAMES THAT LIVE. 



rider called out to the Provincial of the Franciscans and 
others on the way to Ximenes: 

" If you are going to the Cardinal, hasten yourselves, 
and warn him not to eat of the large trout — it is poi- 
soned. If you come too late, urge him to prepare for 
death, for he will not be able to overcome the poison." 

The Cardinal would not, however, believe this, and 
said: 

" If I really am poisoned, it is by a letter received from 
Flanders a few days ago, the sand of which has consid- 
erably affected my eyes; yet even this I do not believe." 

It was reported, however, that Francisco Carillo, who 
first tasted of whatever was cooked, fell seriously ill. 

It was very shortly after Ximenes' elevation to the 
archiepiscopal See of Toledo that we find him beginning 
to think seriously of founding and endowing out of the 
revenues of his new office a centre of learning and the 
arts. He had already, like Isabella, done much to bring 
the then infant art of printing into repute, having given 
prizes for the best workmanship, and invited printers 
into the principal towns. Isabella, and following her 
example most of the grandees of Spain, had shown favor 
and support in the most lavish manner to the Univer- 
sity of Salamanca. Moreover, various archbishops had 
founded schools at Granada, Seville, and Toledo; but it 
was reserved for Ximenes to found at Alcala what is 
called by Spaniards " the eighth wonder of the world." 
He chose a site upon the banks of the Henares, where 
the pure fresh breezes came blowing down from the 
grand old Sierras, and where the beautiful and varied 
Castilian landscape was in its full perfection. This 
was the ancient Complutum and the present Alcala de 
Henares. 

The College of San Ildefenso, so named from the titu- 
lar saint of the Cathedral of Toledo, formed the nucleus 



CARDINAL XIMENES. 



39 



of the new university. The date of its commencement 
seems to be about 1508 or 15 10. Seven students then 
came thither from Salamanca. It was enacted that the 
college should consist of thirty-three professors, in honor 
of the thirty-three years of our Saviour's earthly life, and 
twelve priests were added in honor of the twelve apos- 
tles. These latter, however, were simply charged with 
the chaplaincy of the institution, and took no part in the 
teaching. The professors, it was ordained, were to be 
distinguished from the other members of the university 
by a long red, closely fitting robe, with a scarf of the 
same color thrown over the left shoulder, and falling in 
folds to the ankle.* 

Besides this head college, Ximenes founded the fol- 
lowing useful institutions in connection therewith. Thus, 
for instance, the two boarding-schools of St. Eugenius 
and St. Isidore, where forty-two scholars were supported 
for three years free of all expense; two others, those of 
St. Balbina and St. Catherine, for students in philosophy; 
a building for students who fell ill, this latter being 
under the invocation of the Blessed Virgin; again an- 
other for poor theological students and a few students 
in medicine; a sixth, called " the Little School," for 
twelve Franciscan scholars; and the College of Three 
Languages, in honor of St. Jerome, for thirty scholars. 
The university met with great favor, both from the 
Papal Government, which attached special privileges to 
it; also from the king. It is related that the illustrious 
Francis I. of France once paid a visit to the university, 
and cried out in admiration: 

" Your Ximenes has undertaken and accomplished a 
work which I myself could not attempt. The University 
of Paris, the pride of my kingdom, is the work of a line of 



* Gomez. Hefele, 



40 



NAMES THAT LIVE. 



sovereigns ; but Ximenes alone has founded one like 
it." 

Another important foundation made by the Cardinal 
was the Convent de San Juan, to which he joined a 
house of charity for the special protection of poor girls, 
under the invocation of Santa Isabel. Here they could 
remain for some years, under the guidance of a spiritual 
mother, with certain rules drawn up for their direction. 
At the expiration of this given time they had the choice 
of marrying or entering a religious life. 

Ximenes was besides one of the chief patrons of the 
hospital for poor invalids, which also was intended to 
provide for destitute widows and orphans, and many 
other works of mercy. He founded in all four hospitals, 
eight monasteries, and twelve churches. 

To Ximenes is mainly due the preservation of the Moz- 
arabic or Gothic Liturgy, which, a biographer remarks, 
is "so venerable for its antiquity and deep piety." He 
collected the various manuscripts appertaining to this 
rite and had them carefully revised by Mozarabic priests. 
He likewise founded, in his own cathedral, a Mozarabic 
chapel of rare and curious design, and also a college of 
thirteen priests to perpetuate these rites. He is said to 
have spent large sums of money in the printing of brevi- 
aries and missals. 

But we have now come to what many regard as his 
chief benefits to Spain and to mankind. We mean his 
Polyglot edition of the Bible, the first which had been 
attempted and which is named the Complutensian, from 
Complutum or Alcala, where this gigantic work was ex- 
ecuted. Prescott, who certainly cannot be suspected of 
partiality towards the Cardinal, declares this Bible to be 
"a noble monument of piety, learning, and munificence, 
which entitles its author to the gratitude of the whole 
Christian world." His object, Ximenes himself says, 



CARDINAL XIMENES. 



41 



was to " revive the hitherto dormant study of the Sacred 
Scriptures." He collected together for this purpose men 
the most erudite that the kingdom afforded, amongst 
whom were three learned Jews, converts to Christianity. 
The whole expenses of this magnificent undertaking 
were born by Ximenes ; sometimes he was obliged to 
purchase, at great cost, manuscripts of the Old or New 
Testaments. He received the greatest assistance and 
encouragement from Pope Leo X., forever the generous 
patron of learning and art. Even before he was made 
Pope, while he was still Cardinal, we are led to suppose 
from the dates that he sent valuable manuscripts to Xi- 
menes, whom he loved and honored. Ximenes dedicated 
this great work to the Pope, and on its completion re- 
turned him public thanks for assistance rendered. Won- 
derful sight, indeed, to the panegyrists of modern prog- 
ress to see a Grand Inquisitor of Spain, years before the 
so-called Reformation had begun, in those dark middle 
ages, the parent and foster-mother of ignorance, giving 
public thanks to a Pope for assistance rendered in bring- 
ing out the first Polyglot edition of the Bible. 

Whilst the learned men whom he had chosen labored 
at their stupendous task they were personally superin- 
tended by Ximenes, who urged them frequently as fol- 
lows : 

" Lose no time, my friends," would he say to them, 
"in the prosecution of our glorious task, lest in the casu- 
alties of life you should lose your patron, or I have to 
lament the loss of those whose services are of greater 
price in my eyes than wealth or worldly honors."* 

The first volume was finished after twelve years of 
labor ; the last some three years later. Six hundred 



* See Quintanilla, Gomez, and other Spanish authorities, as well as 
Hefele. 



42 NAMES THAT LIVE. 

copies were then struck off. The German printer, Ar- 
nauld William Brocar, sent his son, John Brocar, to an- 
nounce the good tidings to Ximenes. John Brocar was 
clad in festal garments and his face was very joyful. 
The Cardinal, on receiving the intelligence, cried out: 

" I give thee thanks, O Lord! that Thou hast enabled 
me to bring to the desired end the great work which I 
undertook." 

To those around him he exclaimed : 

" Of the many arduous duties which I have performed 
for the benefit of my country, there is nothing, my 
friends, on which you ought to congratulate me more 
than on the completion of this edition of the Bible, which 
now opens to us the sacred fountains of religion when 
they are most needed."* 

We may mention in this connection that the Cardinal 
had likewise caused to be printed many cheap editions of 
Lives of the Saints and other edifying works. Amongst 
these was the life of St. Thomas a Becket, to whom he 
had a special devotion ; the Letters of St. Catherine of 
Sienna, the Ladder of Perfection, by St. John Climacus; 
Meditations on the Life of Christ, by a Carthusian, Lan- 
dulph; besides many others. His idea was to stop the 
spread of immoral publications by supplying good read- 
ing in their place. Being anxious to promote classical 
knowledge, he also gave a commission to some learned 
men to prepare a complete edition of Aristotle ; but his 
death occurring soon after, put an end to this enterprise. 

The Polyglot Bible was, indeed, a fitting close to the life 
of the great Cardinal. Four months afterwards he died. 
He lived long enough to experience the ingratitude of 
kings. Charles, who, in defiance of his faithful minister's 
will, had caused himself to be proclaimed king, though his 



* Canon Dalton, in his Preface to Hefele. 



Feller. Hefele. 



CARDINAL XIMENES. 



43 



mother, Joanna, was still alive, became gradually 
estranged from Ximenes. Urged by those Flemish fa- 
vorites and unworthy courtiers, against whom the Regent 
had so often warned him, he wrote a cold and unfeeling 
letter to the Cardinal, intimating that his services as Re- 
gent were no longer required. Some chroniclers have 
declared that this letter hastened his death, but the truth 
is he never received it. The grand old man was already 
upon the verge of the grave, and the announcement was 
simply made to the Royal Senate. 

For the end was approaching. Already Ximenes stood 
upon the shores of the dark river; faintly he heard the 
dipping of the boatman's oars; brighter and brighter 
gleamed the gates of pearl, upon which his longing eyes 
had been fixed during all those years of labor and tri- 
umph ; for the glory and fame and honor of the highest 
position in the Court had never obscured their vision. 
The Promised Land drew near; the world receded, and 
the jasper domes of the heavenly city grew distinct to his 
failing sight. At last the strong heart ceased to beat — 
the noble generous heart, which, historians assure us, 
" did more for Spain than all the kings that ever reigned." 
At last the giant intellect ceased to plan and execute 
plans for the welfare of the people whom he so much 
loved. The thorns and briars of the strait way were 
left behind, and swift through the narrow gate his spirit 
passed. That mighty soul, with one great gasp of joy, 
freed from the earthiness of earth, entered into life 
eternal. At the hour of death he spoke to his servants " of 
the instability of all earthly things, and of the infinite mer- 
cies of God." He begged of God the pardon of his sins, 
implored the special intercession of the saints, and received 
the Viaticum with deep and tender piety. The Prayers 
for the Dying were read, after which the Cardinal passed 
away calmly, with the words, " In Te, Domine, speravi," 



44 



NAMES THAT LIVE. 



— In Thee, O Lord ! have I hoped, — on his lips. He was 
buried amid the tumultuous grief of the people. Sobs and 
tears of human sorrow accompanied him to his last rest- 
ing-place, where he lay down joyfully, content to leave 
the kingdom which he had so long governed, to struggle 
for itself, and the world to its long strife and turmoil. 
Contrary to his orders for a simple and unostentatious 
funeral, the remains were conveyed, " amidst the blaze of 
innumerable torches," to the Monastery of St. Mary, 
founded by him, where a funeral service was celebrated. 
Near " Burgos the students of the university erected a 
mortuary chapel," where bishops, priests, nobles, and 
grandees assisted at the Matins for the dead. A monu- 
ment of marble was erected over his remains in his own 
cathedral church, and fifty-eight years after "a magni- 
ficent enclosure of bronze was placed around it, upon 
which were represented the principal events of Ximenes' 
life." 

Our necessarily imperfect glance at this character of 
unparalleled grandeur is concluded, and it but remains 
for us to sum up in as few words as possible some opin- 
ions upon this the most extraordinary man of his day, 
and to form our own estimate of his life and works. 
Even his personal appearance is vividly before us. That 
tall, spare figure, strongly and powerfully built; the fore- 
head high, broad, and deeply wrinkled; the eyes deep- 
set, clear, and penetrating; the face long; the nose like- 
wise long, thin, and aquiline. In presence of the multi- 
tudinous testimony, exalting him above all the statesmen 
or prelates of his age, it may be well to quote the follow- 
ing significant opinion, which is enunciated by more than 
one biographer. Robertson, in his Life of Charles V., 
says that, 

" In the whole history of the world, Ximenes is the 
only Prime Minister who was revered by his contempo- 



CARDINAL XIMENES. 



45 



raries as a saint, and to whom the people over whom he 
ruled ascribed, even while living, the power of working 
miracles." Arnao, a modern Spaniard, says, 

"Ximenes knew how to unite in his person the virtues 
of the most pious monk, of the most zealous bishop, and 
the most accomplished statesman. Spain," he adds, 
"passed under him through the most prosperous and 
happy phase of her history. Would that another Ximenes 
were born to her in the nineteenth century!" The Duke 
of Alva, Ximenes' most bitter political opponent, acknowl- 
edged, after the Cardinal's death, that " he was one of the 
most remarkable of men, a true old Spanish heroic char- 
acter." The Padre Quintanilla, a Spanish monk, is so 
profuse in his praise, that it seems almost like exaggera- 
tion; while Gomez, Flechier, and innumerable Spanish 
authors, exalt him to the highest. Dr. Hefele, the learned 
German, to whose able work on the great Ximenes we 
are so much indebted, himself draws a parallel between 
Richelieu and Ximenes, which is altogether to the ad- 
vantage of the latter. Canon Dalton, in the Preface to 
his translation of Hefele's Ximenes, says: "As a states- 
man he was far superior to Richelieu, as a prelate he was 
the model of bishops; as a monk, full of the spirit of his 
Order; as a patron of learning, unsurpassed. Not only 
was he irreproachable in his morals, kind and generous to 
the poor, severe to himself alone, but zealous beyond con- 
ception for the advancement of the Catholic faith, a father 
to his clergy and canons of Toledo, devoted to the cause 
of the Holy See, forgiving and even kind to his enemies." 
"If," adds he, "I can inspire my readers with the same 
love and admiration for the character of Ximenes which 
I feel myself, my labor will be fully repaid," — words 
which we may apply with full justice to our humble 
analysis of the character of this truly heroic man. 
Throughout Spain, he was even in his lifetime popu- 



4 6 



NAMES THAT LIVE. 



larly regarded as a saint; many miracles are ascribed to 
him, and in some ancient martyrologies his name is still 
enrolled. But as we have no decision of the Church upon 
this point, we may well be content to regard him as what 
he was — the master spirit of Spain. Whether as Friar, 
Prelate, or Minister, it must be conceded that he has 
reached a pinnacle of greatness to which few can aspire. 
As an humble Franciscan monk, we see him full of the 
Spirit of God, practising almost unparalleled austerities. 
Under the Cardinal's robe we find him still wearing his 
habit of St. Francis and a rough hair shirt; still detached 
from the world, still full of zeal for the things of God, 
frugal and penitential in his diet, sleeping upon a plank, 
his tranquil mind undisturbed by the splendor and 
luxury of a court. As a statesman he stands out promi- 
nent in history as a reformer of abuses, the organizer of 
a superior military system, the man who increased ten- 
fold the maritime power of Spain; who paid off the na- 
tional debt, who removed oppressive taxes, and who op- 
posed the introduction of negro slavery in Ameriea. A 
constant generous patron of all that was noble and good 
and beautiful of science and art, and even of agriculture, 
for he caused books upon this subject to be printed and 
promulgated. A patriot who spent twenty millions in 
the service of his country; and of all the noble revenues 
which his high offices brought in to him, left not a farth- 
ing to any private friend or kinsman. In a word, the lib- 
eral protector of the poor, at once the friend of liberty 
and the supporter of established government, the foun- 
der of a University and the compiler of a Polyglot Bible. 

His character as a priest was never sullied by even an 
unworthy accusation, though the bitterest enemies of the 
Church have written about him. His virtues were all of 
the grandest; his very faults those which often accom- 
pany the truest greatness. His word was inviolable; his 



CARDINAL XIMENES. 



47 



heroic generosity in forgiving personal enemies, an ex- 
ample to the nation; and his perfect unworldliness amid 
the splendors of a luxurious court, a model to the world. 
He shunned the honors which were forced upon him, and 
despised the luxury that surrounded him. The very 
severity, bordering upon harshness, of which his enemies 
accuse him, was the quality which enabled him to hold 
the helm of state amid all the storms of those troub- 
lous times. Besides, it was so constantly obviated by his 
charity, generosity, and benevolence, that we can scarcely 
make it a subject of complaint. Purest and noblest 
among the pure and noble, where shall we find his equal ? 
The fulness of the Holy Spirit descending upon him 
made him superior to any contemporary, and, as his bi- 
ographer tells us, produced in him " that hunger and 
thirst after justice" which ceased only with his death. 
This man of indomitable will, fiery ardor, all-grasping 
intellect and sublime faith, has slept for ages beneath the 
marble of that noble temple which he himself founded.* 
Its painted windows cast their warm glow upon his 
tomb, where it stands, in the dark hush and stately gran- 
deur of the proud edifice, an edifice which serves as a fit- 
ting monument to as grand and pure a spirit as death 
ever freed from mortal thrall and immortality ushered 
through the gates of the grave into the glory of the 
Eternal City. 

The moonlight spell of the dim old city which held us 
in thrall is dissolved, our task in Toledo is done, and we 
turn away from its dusky, mediaeval splendor and the 
contemplation of that great life, which in those so-called 
dark ages shed such lustre upon it. 

Before we pass from its gates we cast a hasty glance 
upon the curious old Church of San Juan de los Reyes, 



The Church of San Ildefenso, attached to the University of Alcald, 



4 8 



NAMES THAT LIVE. 



built by Ferdinand and Isabella. Upon its reddish 
tinged facade hang the chains of the Christian captives 
freed at the fall of Granada; statues of kings and heroes 
in various attitudes adorn its tawny exterior — kings and 
heroes famous once in the history of the country, but 
whose bodies have long since mouldered into dust be- 
neath the cathedrals of the land. We leave behind us the 
narrow streets, the picturesque oddness of the brightly 
painted houses, the .heavy iron balconies and barred win- 
dows, giving them the appearance of miniature fortresses; 
and we bid farewell to the vast cathedral where, with 
organ peal, amid the waving of banners and the rich 
gloom of painted windows, the humble Franciscan first 
took his place as Archbishop of Toledo — that cathedral, 
its curious Mozarabic Chapel, and its beautiful one of the 
Madonna, where, amid a gorgeous mingling of jasper, 
porphyry, and other precious marbles, Our Lady is en- 
throned as with Eastern magnificence. According to the 
Spanish custom, her robe is of rich velvet, adorned with 
costly jewels, and her crown so resplendent with price- 
less gems that it reminds us of the splendor of that crown 
bestowed upon her by Christ, her Son, " to the particular 
glory of all the Saints." 

The splendid pageant fades from our sight, with the 
last view of the ruined Alcazar, upon which, in the days 
of the great and good Cardinal, time had scarcely laid its 
vandal hand. We bid a lingering farewell to the beau- 
ties of fair Castilia, to her olive groves and gardens of 
myrtle, to her silvery streams and dark Sierras. In their 
midst we leave, as in a worthy setting, the noble, the he- 
roic, the mighty Francisco Cisneros de Ximenes, Cardi- 
nal of Spain. 



O Sovereign Masters of the Pencil's might, 
Its depths of shadow, and its blaze of light; 
Children of Italy / who stand alone 
And unapproached, ?nidst regions all your own. 

Thou, the inspired One, whose gigantic mind 
Lived in some sphere to thee alone assigned ; 
Who, from the past, the future and the unseen 
Could call up forms of more than earthly mien, 
Unrivalled Angelo. 

Hemans. 




Painter, Poet, Architect, and Sculptor. 




IHAT a world of historic associations cluster 
about the name which, in the golden days of 
I Leo X. and down through the lifetimes of suc- 



cessive popes, cast lustre upon all Italy and added new 
laurels to Eternal Rome. The sound of that magic name 
brings present to the view Rome of the Curule Throne, 
Rome of the Tribunes, Rome of the Emperors, Rome of 
the Mighty Pantheon, and Rome of the Popes. In a 
mist of memories comes she to the sight, empurpled with 
the royal mantle of her rulers, empurpled with the crim- 
son of her victims' blood, empurpled with the purple of 
her hills, empurpled with the twilight shadows en- 
shrouding the Campagna, till they melt in golden light 
over the yellow Tiber. 

Centuries ago a mighty monarch laid at the feet of 
the Sovereign Pontiff one small portion of this vast 
world to be the visible Kingdom of Christ upon earth. 
It was the homage of a generous heart, a trophy of his 
faith, a pledge of his thanksgiving. For, as ages rolled 
away, the heathen gods of the idolatrous Romans, who 
had so long swayed the world, fell, one by one, with 
hideous clamor, and the old race of heroes, who had 
swept the world with their conquests, vanished forever 
from mortal ken. But, meanwhile, the vicegerents of 



52 



NAMES THAT LIVE. 



Christ, the pastors of the faithful, were unknown to the 
greater part of men. Beneath the palaces of the Caesars, 
beneath the temples of their gods, deep in the bowels of 
the earth, ran dark and tortuous vaults or caverns, where, 
in the still and solemn midnight, when the symbolic 
silence of sleep had fallen upon the world, a few faithful 
hearts gathered around their chief. Tapers illumined 
the darkness, an altar of sacrifice was raised, the Lamb, 
a victim of Propitiation, was offered, and the Bread 
which is the Life of the world distributed to the first 
Christians. Grand and sublime the chants of praise died 
away in innumerable echoes among the black arches 
overhead, or in the sinuous windings of the gloomy Cata- 
combs; silvery and soft the incense floated upwards to 
the Eternal Throne, filling the dark vaults with sweet 
aroma; and the white-haired Pontiff, kneeling, upraised 
his hands in supplication for the people. 

But in the fulness of time this newer, grander, most 
imperishable of monarchies, emerged from this subter- 
ranean darkness and looked forth over the earth, never 
again to disappear from its green surface till Time shall 
cast its burden of centuries into Eternity's shoreless 
ocean. Constantine, flushed with victory, beheld in the 
heavens the sign of the Crucified; he recognized the 
mightier Conqueror, and he cast before Him wealth and 
fame and honor, his alike by birth and conquest. 
Thenceforth the Christian people shunned no more the 
light of day, and their chief took his place beside the 
royal victor. Centuries elapsed, and another mighty 
king came out of the West, and gave unto the Lord the 
spoils of victory. These he declared should evermore 
be held the heritage of God in the person of His Vicar; 
so that when wars or rumors of wars should agitate the 
earth, the Church might possess her soul in peace, nor 
be ever again compelled to celebrate the worship of God 



MICHAEL ANGELO. 



53 



beneath the earth. Such was the donation of the mag- 
nanimous Charlemagne, the possession of which has 
never until the present day been disputed to the Church. 
To-day the Vicar of Christ is a captive; the Church, alas! 
a victim to the spoiler's wrath. 

But in the golden days when Christ smiled upon Italy, 
His inheritance, and created for her sovereign spirits 
whose very memory casts a spell over the civilized world, 
was born in Tuscany, on the 6th of March, 1474, at the 
Castle of Caprese, Michael Angelo Buonarotti, painter, 
poet, architect, and sculptor. He was descended from 
the illustrious family of the Counts of Canossa, who had 
been in successive generations the defenders and sup- 
porters of the Papal See. At the time of the artist's 
birth his father was Podesta or Governor of Chiusi and 
Caprese. When his term of office had expired he re- 
turned to Florence, and sent the infant Angelo to the 
family villa of Settignano. There he was nursed by a 
woman who chanced to be the wife of one stone-mason 
and the daughter of another; to which fact the artist often 
jestingly alluded, as explaining his taste for the chisel. 

While still young, Angelo was sent to a grammar- 
school in Florence, kept by one Francesco d'Urbino; 
and here his father wished him to prepare for an honora- 
ble career in one of the learned professions. But this 
dearest wish of the paternal heart was not destined to be 
gratified. Already mysterious whisperings were calling 
the student into another world, peopled with rare and 
exquisite creations; the shades of immortal ones, who in 
the dust of glorious ages had buried the wondrous pro- 
ductions of their art, lured him on with visions of the in- 
finite, and woke in his soul vague longings which bore 
him far beyond the earth into a nobler and purer atmos- 
phere. Nature, too, with her thousand charms allured 
him: the dusky purple of the dying day, the mellow light 



54 



NAMES THAT LIVE. 



which with translucent beam illumined the evening- 
shadowed Arno ; as thereafter the rich colors of Ausonian 
sunsets, the pearl pallor of her dawns upon the lone Cam- 
pagna ; the melancholy grandeur of the Seven Hills, the 
bright and warm and rich luxuriance of Tivolian bowers; 
the deep shadow of the lofty Soracte, the moonlight on 
the time-vanquished walls of the Coliseum; the citron- 
scented groves and olive hills and orange gardens of his 
native land, — all these spoke to his youthful soul in 
strange language, thrilled him with passionate joy and 
pain, filled him with mighty imagery and high imagin- 
ings, which sought interpretation and troubled him with 
uncontrollable longings, never to be laid to rest until 
he had gained a threefold immortality. Even at this 
early age Angelo spent every moment he could spare 
from study in drawing and painting. He soon formed 
the acquaintance of some artists, amongst whom a cer- 
tain Francesco Granacci, a pupil of Ghirlandaio, did 
much to encourage the boy's love for art, and brought 
him to his master's studio. Thenceforth, neglecting all 
else, Angelo devoted himself to his favorite pursuits, and 
with the assistance of Granacci, painted on a panel the 
story of St. Anthony and the Fishes, from a German 
print. So desirous was he of imitating nature, that he 
went to the market to observe the forms of the fish, 
which he consequently reproduced exactly. Soon after- 
wards he borrowed a head, and so well succeeded in copy- 
ing it, that he returned his imitation and retained the 
model, nor was the deception discovered till he himself 
exposed it. 

His artistic tendencies were a source of great displeas- 
ure to his father and other relatives, the profession of 
painter being held as a degradation. Their interfer- 
ence, however, proved unavailing, and his father was 
finally induced to place him as a pupil in the school of 



MICHAEL ANGELO. 



55 



Domenico Ghirlandaio, then the most eminent Floren- 
tine painter. 

Angelo must already have been esteemed as an artist 
of great promise, for the master, instead of receiving the 
usual compensation from the pupil, agreed to pay him a 
small salary. From that time his progress in art was 
wonderful, though he gained but little from the instruc- 
tion of a master who was notoriously envious of his 
pupil's growing reputation. Once, however, it is related 
that even the envious master was forced to applaud a 
sketch made by his young disciple. Ghirlandaio had 
been employed to decorate the Florentine Church of 
Santa Maria Novella. During his master's absence An- 
gelo drew the scaffolding, desks, the whole apparatus, 
and a young artist who was at work, and this in so mas- 
terly a manner that it called forth universal admira- 
tion. 

Meanwhile, Lorenzo de Medici had opened a school 
for the study of sculpture, feeling that its progress had 
not kept pace with that of painting. A garden in or 
about the Piazza di San Marco was employed for the 
purpose and filled with antique sculpture. Bertoldo, 
a pupil of Donatello, was appointed as keeper. Ghirlan- 
daio was invited to send thither his most promising 
pupils; and Angelo and his friend Granacci became 
regular attendants, thus gaining a correct knowledge of 
the antique.* 

The young artist now for the first time attempted 
modelling in clay, and also tried his apprentice hand at 
carving in marble. Lorenzo de Medici, in one of his vis- 
its to the garden, observed a copy of an old head or mask 
which Angelo had made. It represented a marble faun, 



*Vasari's Life of Angelo. Vasari's Ragionamenti. Duffa's Life of 
Angelo 



56 



NAMES THAT LIVE. 



and Lorenzo jestingly remarked that the teeth were too 
perfect for so old a faun. Angelo perceiving the justice 
of the criticism immediately remedied the defect. 
Lorenzo was so delighted with the alteration that he 
sent for the father of the artist, and asked him to give 
up his son, also promising to assist in procuring an office 
for himself. The father consented, and shortly after- 
wards we find Lorenzo obtaining a situation in the 
customs for Lodovico Buonarotti, which was given him, 
"till something better should turn up." Angelo, who 
was then sixteen years of age, was received into 
Lorenzo's household, where he was treated as a son. 
During his residence there he pursued his studies with 
the greatest ardor and diligence in the old cloister 
church of the Carmelites, so rich in treasures of art. 
From that time dates the artist's friendship with Poli- 
tiano, the distinguished Greek and Latin scholar, and the 
composer of elegant verse. At his suggestion, Angelo 
executed a basso-rilievo in marble, representing the 
battle of Hercules with the Centaurs. It was never 
completely finished, but years afterwards it caused the 
artist to declare that he regretted not having devoted 
himself entirely to sculpture. 

In April, 1492, Angelo lost his kind and munificent 
patron. At Lorenzo's death the artist went home. Pietro 
de Medici, who now succeeded to the paternal estates, 
was far inferior to his father in mind and character. 
Still, he induced Angelo to return to the palace, and 
placed his former apartments at his disposal. For the 
amusement of his guests he set him to make a statue of 
snow for the courtyard of the castle. He was proud of 
the artist's presence in the house, and was heard to boast 
that he had two extraordinary persons there — Michael 
Angelo, and a Spanish running footman, remarkable for 



MICHAEL ANGELO, 



57 



beauty of person, and so swift of foot that one riding 
on horseback could not overtake him.* 

Angelo occupied himself at this time in carving a great 
statue of Hercules, which afterwards became celebrated, 
and was presented to Francis I. of France. Political dis- 
turbances, however, caused him to leave the Medici palace 
and proceed to Bologna in company with some friends. A 
law was then in force that a foreigner entering Bologna 
should have his thumb sealed with red wax. Angelo 
and his friends having neglected this precaution, were 
detained in default of a heavy fine, till a member of the 
Bolognese Government, Signor Aldovrandi, released them 
and invited the artist to his house Angelo felt that if 
he accepted the invitation it would seem discourteous to 
his companions, and upon this plea declined the proffered 
hospitality. Aldovrandi jestingly remarked, " Then I 
think I will go with you myself to see the world, since 
you take such good care of your friends." 

Angelo finally consented to remain at the house of his 
new friend, and occupied himself with marble statues 
for the Church of San Domenico: one, a San Petronio; 
the other, a kneeling angel bearing a branch for candles 
in the hand. After some months, however, he returned 
to his native city, where he executed a statue of an Infant 
St. John sleeping, and the celebrated figure of Cupid, so 
perfect an imitation of Grecian art, that he was induced 
to stain it such a color as it would have been if buried 
for ages. A man who had suggested the deception to 
Angelo now sent it to Rome, where the taste for antiqui- 
ties was then a mania. The Cupid was greatly sought 
after, and brought a very large price from Cardinal San 
Giorgio; though the man who had practised the imposi- 



* Pondivi. 



33 



NAMES THAT LIVE. 



tion, and not Angelo, was the gainer by the transaction. 
However, when it became known that the statue was not 
an antique, the Cardinal was naturally indignant, and 
sent to Florence to learn further particulars. The result 
was that the man who had sold it was arrested, and 
obliged to refund the money. 

On the invitation of Cardinal San Giorgio Angelo 
went to Rome, where he made a statue of Bacchus, one 
of Cupid, and a figure of the Virgin and the Dead 
Christ, called in Italian a Pietd. This was the first of 
his which gained real celebrity. The beholder is at once 
impressed by a certain grandeur and simplicity, and a 
tender beauty of expression. It is now used as an altar- 
piece in the chapel of La Vergine Maria della Febbre in 
St. Peter's, and has been extensively copied in marble and 
bronze. Concerning this piece of sculpture the follow- 
ing anecdote is told. Angelo on one occasion entered 
the church, and found a number of persons standing in 
admiration before the Pietd. A stranger inquired the 
name of the sculptor, and Christofori Solari, commonly 
called II Gobbo, who chanced to be present, answered, 
" One of our countrymen, a Milanese." Angelo heard 
but did not contradict the assertion. That night he 
returned thither and cut his name under the group, so 
that no such mistake might again occur. 

His next work was a cartoon of " St. Francis Receiving 
the Stigmata;" but about this time he left Rome, and 
returned to Florence, on the invitation of Pietro Soderini, 
a liberal patron of the arts and a warm admirer of Angelo, 
who had just been called to the office of Gonfaloniere of 
Florence. While in his native city, Angelo executed a 
colossal figure of David for the square in front of the 
Palazzo Vecchio. His patron being brought to see it, 
or so the story goes, declared that the nose was too 
large. The artist explained on scientific principles why 



MICHAEL ANGELO. 



S9 



it should be so; but the critic was not convinced till 
Angelo, stepping upon a ladder, seized a chisel, and pre- 
tended to alter the nose, letting the dust, as it were 
from the marble, fall to the ground. Soderini was much 
nattered, and exclaimed, "Now I am better pleased; you 
have given it life." 

It was through the Gonfaloniere that he received the 
commission for the famous cartoon which was to com- 
pete with that of Lionardo da Vinci. Angelo chose a 
scene in the war between the Florentines and Pisans, 
and Lionardo a battle of cavalry. In the former "all is 
life and movement," says Mrs. Jameson, " and the sub- 
ject affords ample opportunity for the great facility of 
the artist in designing the human figure, for the Floren- 
tine soldiers are bathing in the Arno when the call to 
battle comes. Up the steep banks they rush, buckling 
on their armor and preparing for combat. There are 
thirty or more life-sized figures, drawn with black chalk, 
relieved with white." " The Cartoon of Pisa," says 
Alzog, "displays every variety of attitude and action, 
great anatomical knowledge, and admirable skill in 
foreshortening." This work was received with uni- 
versal applause, and justly regarded as the grandest 
which Angelo had yet executed. It was a stupendous 
design, instinct with life and animation, the full power 
of the human frame*being portrayed with consummate 
ability. Yet it lacks the sublimity of conception so per- 
ceptible in his religious masterpieces. 

That of Lionardo da Vinci was also executed with 
wonderful power, and was, for certain reasons, preferred. 
Neither of the designs were ever carried out, political 
changes interfering with their execution, and Angelo was 
called to Rome by Julius II., who had just succeeded to 
the tiara. His cartoon was destroyed, it is said, by the 
malice of Baccio Bandinelli, who tore it to pieces. So 



6o 



NAMES THAT LIVE. 



that of this magnificent conception but one small copy 
remains. 

The reigning Pope, Julius, was eminently a lover of 
learning and the arts, both of which he most liberally 
patronized. Hence it is little wonder that he immedi- 
ately summoned Angelo to the Vatican, sending an 
order for a hundred ducats to defray his travelling 
expenses. Of this Pope an eminent biographer has 
said, "The character of Julius is one of incomparable 
grandeur. He well deserved the most magnificent sepul- 
chral monument of the prince of artists." It was now upon 
his arrival in Rome that Angelo began the design for the 
celebrated mausoleum of Julius II., which he never en- 
tirely carried out. The plan, as we have it from his bi- 
ographers, was a parallelogram, with a superstructure of 
forty statues, some of colossal size; it was to be orna- 
mented with various figures, and bassi-rilievi in bronze. 
If completed, it would have been the most magnificent 
tribute ever offered to the memory of a man who fos- 
tered so many geniuses in the sunshine of his munificence. 
The plan finished, an appropriate place for its execution 
had to be chosen, and it was found that the then existing 
Church of St. Peter's would not suffice. Alterations in the 
building were suggested, and the project grew and grew 
till it led to the rebuilding of St. Peter's. Angelo, how- 
ever, began his work upon the mausoleum, and completed 
the famous statue of Moses, wherein the inspired law- 
giver is represented grasping with one hand his flowing 
beard, and with the other the tables of the law. So 
high was Angelo in the favor of the Pope, and so great 
a regard did the latter feel for him, that a covered bridge, 
it is said, was erected between the Vatican and the artist's 
studio, that the Pope might visit him at his pleasure 
and watch the progress of his works. Such distinction 
naturally excited bitter envy and hatred against Angelo, 



MICHAEL ANGELO. 



6l 



and efforts were made to bring about dissensions between 
him and his patron. It was understood that the sculp- 
tor was to apply to the Pope for whatever funds might 
be necessary in the carrying on of the work. On one 
occasion Angelo went as usual to the Vatican for this 
purpose, but was told that the Pontiff could not be seen. 
Disappointed, but attaching no importance to the cir- 
cumstance, the artist retired. A short time after, he 
repeated his visit, and was told that the officer had or- 
ders not to admit him. A prelate standing by reproved 
the officer, asking him if he knew to whom he spoke. 
" I know him well enough," replied the other, " but it is 
my duty to obey orders." Angelo, who was of quick 
temper, was deeply hurt, and sent the following message 
to the Pope: 

" Henceforward, if his Holiness wants me he shall have 
to seek me in another place." 

Hastening home he left orders for his furniture to be 
sold, and departed at once for Florence. The Pope 
hearing of it sent five couriers to bring him back, but as 
he was beyond the papal jurisdiction they could not 
compel him to return. So he refused decidedly, saying, 
"That being expelled the antechamber of his Holiness, 
conscious of not meriting the disgrace, he had taken 
the only course left him to pursue consistent with the 
preservation of that character which had hitherto ren- 
dered him worthy of his confidence." The Pope sent a 
message to the Florentine Government to induce Angelo 
if possible to return to Rome, where he would enjoy, as 
before, the Pontifical favor. Soderini at length persuaded 
him to return. Some political matter having brought 
the Pope to Bologna, Soderini considered the opportun- 
ity favorable for a reconciliation between him and the 
painter. An audience was granted, and when Angelo 
entered the presence chamber, Pope Julius glanced at 



62 



NAMES THAT LIVE. 



him sternly, saying coldly, " Instead of your coming 
to us, you seem to have expected that we should have 
attended upon you." Angelo answered respectfully that 
he had been deeply hurt at what he must regard as his 
unmerited disgrace, and asked pardon for the past. The 
Pope then gave him his blessing and restored him to 
favor. 

The artist now executed a statue in bronze of his 
patron, which when completed was of such serene and 
imposing aspect that the Pope asked if the sculptor 
had represented him as blessing or cursing; to which 
Angelo replied, " Only as threatening the unruly." This 
was placed in the facade of San Petronio. Angelo would 
have continued his work upon the mausoleum, but the 
Pope desired that the Sistine Chapel commenced by 
Sixtus IV. should be decorated. Michael Angelo there- 
fore began that immortal work, and thus set his foot with 
surer hold upon the mountain height of his limitless im- 
mortality. Yet the new work was not to his taste. His 
success as a sculptor was assured ; the great mausoleum, an 
evidence of his power, would go down to remote posterity. 
Painting in fresco might prove a failure. It is said his 
enemies counted upon this, and hoped thus to see him 
fall from his eminence as the master genius of the age. 
But the Pope would have him paint the Sistine Chapel, 
and paint he did. 

Centuries have passed since then, and travellers paus- 
ing in amaze have no need to ask the name of the wiz- 
ard who has brought thither the powers of earth and air 
and hell, who has caught half- veiled glimpses of the 
glory to come, and transfixed them all upon the walls 
and ceilings of the Sistine Chapel. 

The walls had been adorned by once celebrated artists, 
and the original design was that they should be white- 
washed over, and painted by Angelo. The death of 



MICHAEL ANGELO. 



63 



Julius prevented this portion of the plan from being car- 
ried out. So that the ceiling and some of the walls 
alone bear the touch of the master, and by their reful- 
gence cast into shade the lesser lights which shone with 
considerable brilliancy when that wondrous ceiling of 
to-day was a vast white blank, 

The ceiling bears various decorations in chiaro-osraro, 
and is divided into several compartments. Four great 
divisions and five small ones form the centre. In these 
we have majestic images of the Creator. He bids light 
appear upon the darkness; He creates the sun and moon, 
with outstretched arms, calling them out of chaos and 
fixing them in their orbits; stretching His Almighty hand 
over the dark waste of waters, He commands them into 
certain limits, where, chained by His word, they await 
the moment of universal annihilation. Last comes the 
creation of man, the handful of clay, the vital breath 
therein transfused. His image and likeness stamped 
thereupon, and dominion imparted over the animal tribes, 
the crowning touch of the divinity given in the creation 
of Eve and the fair face of nature is complete. 

But a change comes over the blissful garden and its 
happy inmates. The fall, the glory forever fled, the 
majesty of innocence thenceforth departed, and the souls 
of earth's primal dwellers, cursed by the unending curse, 
are all before us, with the sad story of the expulsion. Out, 
out into the dreariness, and misery, and sin, and labor 
and death of the outer world, never to revisit, save in 
melancholy retrospection, the ever fair, ever verdant, 
ever radiant garden of Paradise. The hope remain- 
ing too is here portrayed in the promise of another Eden, 
whose joy the heart of man cannot conceive; but the way 
leading thitherward is through the dark and rugged defile 
of death. 

The artist leads us onward to that awful epoch in the 



64 



NAMES THAT LIVE. 



story of our race. The Deluge, the dark mass of waters, 
the affrighted earth buried fathoms beneath; and above 
the surging waters wild, despairing faces, distorted limbs, 
and all the signs and tokens of strong human agony 
brought in the fulness of life, face to face with death. 
As a relief we turn to the sacrifice of Noe, whence the 
smoke of propitiation ascends from the altar stone to the 
realms of Eternal clemency; and to the vineyard of the 
patriarch, where the purple grapes ripen under skies and 
suns that looked down upon the first inhabitants of a 
new earth. For the mighty surging of the waters has 
forever borne the old idolatrous race from the surface 
of the globe. 

All this in the centre of the ceiling. But in the surround- 
ing and interesting curves are the prophets and sibyls, 
who, with mystical speech, and eyes fixed upon a far-off 
Galilean midnight, speak unto men of the birth of the 
Royal Redeemer. They are brought vividly to life by 
the artist, seated before us with their mighty scrolls or 
giant tomes, and impress themselves upon our minds 
with wonderful individuality. Each one feels the breath 
of inspiration, and the might of some overmastering 
power which burst asunder the n^riad bonds of time 
and space, and hurries him onward into a marvellous 
futurity. Yet the aspect of each is different. Strange 
forms, too, of beings once, in the old mythological days, 
supposed to preside over the destinies of kingdom and 
empire, race and individual, await in the ambient air 
the message for immortality. 

In compartments called lunettes is the genealogy of 
Christ, his direct descent from the royal line of David. 
With rare, intuitive tenderness and conception of the 
beautiful, the artist herein portrays each figure in a calm 
loveliness and restful quietude, contrasting well with 
the awful sublimity of his proximate productions. 



MICHAEL ANGELO. 



6 5 



In one corner of the ceiling is the majestic figure of 
Judith, full of austere and stately beauty, at the moment 
of her triumph over Holofernes. In the other corners are 
David vanquishing Goliath, the Punishment of Aman, 
the Brazen Serpent, and the miraculous deliverance 
of the people of Israel, pointing as it does to the salva- 
tion of mankind by Christ the Redeemer. Upon the 
pedestals, and as it were supporting the cornice, are forty- 
eight figures of infants in various attitudes. They are 
just beneath the entablature of chiaro-oscuro which 
divides the flat part of the ceiling from the coved. Here 
and there in the ornamentation are fifty figures placed 
at intervals, and ten medallions representing historical 
subjects.* 

In fancy we behold Angelo during the progress of this 
marvellous work, pausing with brush upraised; his won- 
drous intellect and its mighty imaginings spellbound, his 
great soul dilating upon its conception of the Eternal 
Creator. His the task to give to immortality an idea of the 
Infinite, which might bear some proportion to the limitless 
grandeur of the subject. Through the long hours of day 
he labors; the morning's early sweetness steals upon him 
at his work, and evening's peaceful loneliness finds him 
toiling still ; adding new and tender touches of majestic 
beauty to the countenance of the Incarnate Son of God, 
perfecting each fold and wrinkle of that seamless gar- 
ment which the infirm made whole so often kissed with 
grateful rapture ; embodying his thoughts of the 
Madonna, the holy purity, the divine tenderness, the 
unutterable beauty of the face which smiled above the 
crib of Bethlehem, and was furrowed with tears of 
agony on Calvary ; peopling all the air with the angelic 
hosts, lending new brightness to Cherubim and Seraphim, 



* Mrs. Jameson. Vasari. Duffa. 



66 NAMES THAT LIVE. 

new glory to the Thrones and Dominations ; picturing 
the saints with the various insignia of their mission 
upon earth, or the signs and symbols of the divers dark 
paths of suffering by which they entered the Kingdom of 
God. 

In twenty months the marvellous work was completed; 
and a day came of unparalleled triumph for Angelo. 
The heart of the artist swelled within him as he beheld 
the multitude who thronged the Sistine Chapel to gaze 
upon the work which he alone had begun and ended, 
and into which a portion of his soul had passed. His 
earnest faith, his adoring love, his reverent devotion, 
were imaged in that which thrilled all beholders with 
its grandeur and its loveliness. It was the Feast of all 
Saints; the Sistine Chapel was resplendent. The Sover- 
eign Pontiff entered in his robes of state and sang High 
Mass, amid the harmonious thunder of the music and 
the rejoicings of a multitude. The artist gazed upon 
his creation, beheld the wonder written upon the up- 
turned faces of the people, and the immortal fire of 
genius burned strong within him. A great uncontrol- 
lable desire possessed him to approach what seemed the 
unattainable, and produce what his soul, full of an unde- 
finable longing, urged him to accomplish — something 
which would satisfy his high aspirations, fill the measure 
of his giant heart's content, and put a final term to the 
soarings of his all-grasping intellect. 

He worshipped before the altar, and gave praise to 
God, the mighty and the strong, the holy and the just, 
in whose name he felt he could defy the verdict of the 
universe, and stand where man for good nor evil might 
not stand. High upon that mountain-top, touching that 
loftiest pinnacle, breathing that purer air, he need ac- 
knowledge no kindred with the world that lay stretched 
at his feet. 



MICHAEL ANGELO. 



6 7 



A few short months, however, and an end came to the 
earthly career of one who had been to the artist the 
noblest of patrons and stanchest of friends. Pope 
Julius died in February, 15 13, and his loss was not 
readily supplied to Angelo. Pope Leo X., who suc- 
ceeded to the pontificate, was an equally munificent 
patron of the arts; but he encouraged the growing 
genius of Raphael, and aided him to lay the foundation 
of his enduring fame. Yet he forwarded the plans of 
Angelo, and assured him of the undiminished favor and 
support of the Papal See; but it was not with the old 
undivided patronage which his predecessor had bestowed. 
He gave Angelo a commission to adorn the exterior of 
the Church of San Lorenzo in Florence. This the artist 
undertook with some reluctance, being desirous of com- 
pleting the mausoleum of Pope Julius, though, as pre- 
viously arranged, on a smaller and less expensive scale. 
He felt this to be a debt which he owed the memory of 
his benefactor. Pope Leo gave him permission to carry 
out both works at the same time. But the facade of 
San Lorenzo did not progress very rapidly. Pope Leo 
had heard great accounts of the marble of Pietra Santa; 
he had been informed that it was fully equal to that of 
Carrara. Angelo was ordered to examine the quarries. 
He reported unfavorably, and represented the great 
difficulty of transporting it thence. But the Pope was 
anxious that it should be tried, and hence the work went 
slowly. 

A word may not be out of place here regarding the 
constant encouragement and support given by the Pontiffs 
to so many artists who were fostered in the shadow of 
the Papal throne, and supported out of the abundance 
of the Papal revenues. What a refutation of the old 
fable, passed from mouth to mouth since the Reformation, 
that the Catholic Church is an enemy to the enlighten- 



68 



NAMES THAT LIVE. 



ment and cultivation of the human race! But on such 
a subject volumes might be written, and still much left 
unsaid. Julius had been a most liberal patron of art 
and artists, as we have already seen, and Leo, if possible, 
surpassed him in this respect. In Hazlitt's edition of 
Duffa's Angelo, we are told that this they did "from a 
desire to elevate the common standard of mankind." 
The reign of Leo, who was of the celebrated family of 
Medici, is known as the golden age of art and litera- 
ture. 

At his court, artists, poets, and men of letters found 
shelter, protection, and encouragement. His pontificate 
was, as it were, the horizon upon which appeared the 
dawning light of Raphael's fame, glowed the fervid noon- 
tide of Angelo's inspired labors, and faded the setting- 
sun of Lionardo's genius. Yet, of the two latter named, 
neither accomplished so much during his reign as in 
that of his predecessor. Angelo was in part to blame; 
his over-sensitiveness and a certain perversity of dispo- 
sition led to misunderstandings between himself and the 
Pope; besides, the delay about the marble, which we 
have already mentioned, retarded the progress that he 
might have made. Again, with Lionardo da Vinci, it 
was due to his own indolent and dilatory habits, in ad- 
dition to a certain feeling of discontent he knew all too 
surely that iiis reign as king of artists was over. Soon 
after the accession of Leo he departed to France, where 
he died. 

Leo reigned but eight years and eight months. He 
was succeeded by Adrian VI., during whose pontificate 
Angelo was principally engaged in Florence, upon the 
statues intended for the mausoleum of Julius, and upon 
a library and sacristy to be added to the Church of San 
Lorenzo. He executed two memorial statues of Dukes 
Giuliano and Lorenzo of the house of Medici. These 



MICHAEL ANGELO. 



6 9 



were to be placed in the sacristy, which when finished 
was to serve as a mausoleum for that illustrious family. 
Adrian died after a pontificate of twenty months, and 
was succeeded by Clement VII., also a Medici. . During 
his reign Rome was sacked by the soldiers of the Con- 
stable de Bourbon, so that Angelo remained principally 
at Florence, excepting a brief interval passed at Rome, 
and continued his work upon the Chapel and Library of 
San Lorenzo. He also completed a statue of Christ for 
the Roman Church of Santa Maria Sopra Minerva. Italy 
was now threatened by the all-grasping ambition of 
Charles V., and it was deemed advisable to fortify Flor- 
ence. Angelo was appointed military architect, and for 
the first time distinguished himself in that way by the con- 
struction of a fortification upon the eminence of Monte 
San Miniato, which enabled the city to sustain a siege of 
nine months. After the fall of the Florentine Republic, 
Angelo at first concealed himself, but on being offered 
the most favorable terms by Pope Clement, came forth 
from his hiding-place, and continued his work upon the 
statues of the Medici in the Chapel of San Lorenzo, and 
also executed for the same a statue of the Madonna bear- 
ing the Child Jesus in her arms. He was directed by the 
Pope to prepare a design for the end wall of the Sistine 
Chapel, and this he did with some reluctance, being 
anxious to complete the mausoleum of Julius, upon 
which he was again engaged, under the direction of the 
Duke d'Urbino. 

But in the mean time Clement died, and Paul III., of 
the Farnese family, became Pope. He was most anxious 
to proceed with the decoration of the Sistine Chapel, for 
which Angelo had already prepared cartoons. A new 
engagement was therefore entered upon with the Duke 
d'Urbino, by which three statues were to be executed 
by Angelo, and the remaining three by other artists of 



70 



NAMES THAT LIVE. 



his choice. So it was finally completed, and placed in 
the Church of San Pietro in Vincolo. 

Angelo now began upon the west end of the Sistine 
Chapel that grandest and most stupendous of human 
creations — his immortal picture of the Last Judgment ; 
so terrible in its conception and execution, so vast in its 
proportions, so awful in its glimpses of the woe and ter- 
ror of that dread day of wrath. Prominent amid the 
mighty throng is the figure of the Messiah, no longer 
the Redeemer, no longer the Man of Sorrows, no longer 
the veiled God of the Tabernacle, but mighty, resplend- 
ent in His infinite brightness, appalling in His infinite 
wrath. The artist has portrayed Him, as it were, in 
uttering the dread sentence of unending woe, " Depart 
from Me, ye cursed, into everlasting fire." He would 
seem to crush to annihilation the trembling, shrinking 
figures, " withering away with the expectation of what is 
to come." Beside the awful Judge stands Mary, her 
intercession, at last, unavailing. Mournful, yet radiant 
with the glory of heaven, she turns compassionate eyes 
upon the multitude. Surrounding them, in the clouds, 
are the twelve Apostles, seated on twelve thrones, and a 
glorious company of the saints and elect. Myriads of 
angels people the air, and sound on innumerable trum- 
pets their summons to the children of earth. On the 
one hand are the "just made perfect: their sentence of 
everlasting joy is passed, and a reflection of the blissful 
eternity in store for them already mingles with the 
human terror on their faces. Down into the awful 
gloom, or more horrid brightness of the abyss, demons 
are dragging the souls of the damned, and a boat, with a 
fiend at the helm, is sailing over the awful lake of fire 
into the fathomless ocean of eternity. It is laden with 
human beings, the faces of whom are appalling in their 
eternal despair. The whole idea of the picture is 



MICHAEL ANGELO. 



71 



sublime, majestic, terrible; a masterpiece of awful 
sublimity. Alzog declares this picture to be unique in 
art. Angelo was next engaged upon the frescoes for 
the Paolina Chapel, built beside the Sistine, by order of 
Pope Paul; hence its name. He painted the Conversion 
of St. Paul and the Crucifixion of St. Peter, the chapel 
being under the invocation of those saints. These were 
the last pictures of importance ever painted by him. 
Thenceforth the artist devoted himself more particularly 
to architecture. About the same time he began a group 
of the Madonna del Pieta, bearing the Dead Christ in 
her lap. It was never completed, and stands in its un- 
finished state before the high altar of the Church of 
Santa Croce, Florence. 

San Gallo, who had been architect of St. Peter's since 
the death of Bramante, died in 1546, and Angelo was 
appointed to succeed him. But the weight of years was 
beginning to weigh him down, and but for the express 
command of the Pope, he would have utterly refused 
the appointment. However, to the lasting glory of his 
name, he at length consented, as he said, con grandissimo 
amore, but on one condition: this was, that he should 
receive no renumeration. He simply accepted the office 
from his desire to accomplish something for the honor 
of the Most High. Such was the deep faith and earnest 
piety which characterized the great artist. 

Now was begun one of what a historian calls " the 
splendid triumphs of Christian architecture, which we 
now gaze upon with amazement, whose very conceptions 
our minds are unable to grasp, and whose vast propor- 
tions bring home to our minds the consciousness of our 
own inferiority." * 

In our present limits we cannot follow Angelo through 



* Alzog, Ch. Hist.,, vol. ii. 



72 



NAMES THAT LIVE. 



all the years in which he was engaged upon this grand- 
est of monuments, for so many ages the pride and glory 
of Christendom. It advanced very rapidly under his 
direction, and was very near completion at the time of 
his death. He continued his labors upon it during the 
pontificate of four popes — Paul III., Julius III., Pius IV., 
and Pius V. 

Age began at length to tell upon this man of iron 
frame, and still he worked with stern and rugged per- 
severance, even when he was over eighty years of age. 
Wearily the hand which was wont to handle the chisel 
with such giant power drew design after design, some 
of which were to be completed when he was in dust. 
Slowly and heavily the step, once firm and buoyant, 
wended its way to the great square of the basilica. But 
the fire of inspiration still kindled in his eye, the flame 
of immortal genius still glowed upon his face, as he be- 
held that vast creation, which, the dews of age gave 
warning, it was not for him to complete. Still he 
labored till the chisel fell from his hand. That mighty 
soul, still young in its unimpaired vitality, felt that the 
dawn of immortality was at hand. The hour was come 
when it should soar beyond the worn-out body, which 
had toiled in the service of too stern a taskmaster, and 
grown old while the spirit was still in its vernal youth. 

A slow fever attacked him, of which he died in the 
month of February, 1563, leaving unfinished that monu- 
ment of the ages which is forevermore connected with 
his name. As the moment of dissolution approached, 
he called upon his physician and the members of his 
household to listen to his words. Then he cried out in a 
strong, clear voice: 

" My soul I resign to God, my body to the earth, and 
my worldly possessions to my nearest of kin." 

He then spoke as follows to those assembled at his 



MICHAEL ANGELO. 



73 



bedside, the solemn dignity and repose of death shad- 
owing his face and lending emphasis to his words : 

" In your passage through this life, remember the 
sufferings of Jesus Christ." * 

He spoke no more, and some moments afterwards 
passed quietly away. So died Michael Angelo, the mas- 
ter genius of his age. The body was dismissed from its 
long servitude; the soul departed whither its aspirations, 
too mighty for aught save the Infinite to satisfy, had 
ever borne it: but Michael Angelo was not dead; he had 
but entered into life, leaving his memory the heritage of 
the ages. He had lived eighty-eight years, eleven 
months, and fifteen days. He was laid to rest in the 
Church of the Santi Apostoli in Rome, attended by an 
innumerable multitude of all orders and conditions of 
men; but, at the instance of the Florentine Govern- 
ment, his remains were afterwards conveyed to the 
Church of San Lorenzo in his native Florence. There 
his obsequies were celebrated with great pomp and 
splendor, such as is usually accorded only to royalty, 
and a magnificent funeral oration pronounced by Varchi. 
His body was finally placed in the Church of Santa 
Croce, where peacefully it awaits the resurrection. 

The long and laborious career of the painter, architect, 
and sculptor being ended, our task is done, save as it 
behooves us to glance at some of his works which have 
escaped our attention, and at such fragments of his per- 
sonal character or professional reputation as our brief 
limits will permit. During the period preceding his 
death we find that though principally occupied with 
the grand work of St. Peter's, he was also employed in 
many lesser undertakings. He continued the building 
of the Farncse Palace, begun by San Gallo, and erected 



*Vasari, vol! Hi . , p. 304. 



74 



NAMES THAT LIVE. 



a palace upon the Capitoline Hill for the Senator of 
Rome. He also constructed thereupon two galleries for 
the reception of sculpture and painting, and ornamented 
the spot with such antique relics as were still from time 
to time being discovered among the ruins of ancient 
Rome. On the summit of this hill stood the Conventual 
Church of the Ara Cceli, upon the site once occupied by 
the temple of Jupiter Capitolinus. Winding up this 
steep eminence and leading directly to the church are 
stairs, also built by Angelo. In the choir of this cloister 
church the Capuchin Friars were singing their vespers 
in the gray hush of evening, when without, among the 
ruins of ancient Rome, the infidel Gibbon listened 
dreamily to their chants as he pondered upon the work 
which he then first thought of writing, " The Decline 
and Fall of the Roman Empire." 

During these later years Angelo also made a design 
for a gate to the city of Rome. This he executed: it was 
called the Porta Pia, in honor of Pius V., the reigning 
pontiff. He also carried out the Pope's idea of turning 
the Baths of Dioclesian, then in a ruined condition, into 
a Christian temple. He produced a church which for 
grandeur and simplicity is unsurpassed in Rome. He 
began a chapel for Cardinal Santa Fiore; the aged artist 
lived on, but the patron died, and the completion of the 
work was delayed, till in course of time Angelo died too. 
It was afterwards completed by Delia Porta. "The 
four great pillars, the drum, and the double cupola are, 
however, Angelo's work." 

One word more of this stupendous undertaking, which 
alone would have served to immortalize his name — that 
mighty basilica, of which the temple of Solomon in all 
its glory was but as a dim foreshadowing. Beholding it, 
his other works sink into insignificance; for there his 
master genius has raised, and as it were suspended in 



MICHAEL ANGELO. 



75 



the air, the dome of the Pantheon, placing between the 
admiring earth and the battlements of heaven the grand- 
est and the loftiest thing that mind of man has ever con- 
ceived. Before us rises as in a picture the great square, 
the stupendous bulk slow moving upward to crown 
the mighty edifice; and, grandest of all, the figure of the 
weak old man, directing, commanding, following its mo- 
tion upward, and falling back exhausted when the dome 
had reached its resting-place. We must not, however, 
dwell longer on this work of might, St. Peter's; nor can 
we consider in detail the grandeur of its outlines, the har- 
mony of its proportions, its stupendous size and breadth 
and depth, in the immensity of which the soul of man is 
lost, in the vastness of which the carved angels, six feet 
in height, seem of the stature of children. 

Of his other works we have given the brief and 
imperfect notice which our space permits. But besides 
the pieces of sculpture and the paintings here mentioned, 
there are some few in existence of which considerable 
doubt is expressed. There are also innumerable designs 
from his hand, some of which were never carried out, 
and others put into execution by contemporary artists, 
such as Venusti and Sebastian del Piombo. Jacopo 
Puntormo and others have painted some of his designs 
in oil. 

So we have seen that in sculpture Michael Angelo 
stands unrivalled; his carvings in bronze and marble, 
from the Pietd of his boyhood to the Medici monuments 
of his old age, all alike bear in their various proportions 
the stamp and seal of his mighty genius. No sculptor 
of modern times ever equalled him in perfection of form 
and symmetry of outline; none excelled him in noble 
and austere majesty, or in sublime simplicity. 

As a painter he has produced " the grandest picture 
ever painted," that of the Last Judgment; and his ceil- 



7 6 



NAMES THAT LIVE. 



ing of the Sistine Chapel is unsurpassed in the beaut}* 
and variety of the figures and the harmony of the whole. 
No painter, perhaps, ever felt more deeply the imagina- 
tive portion of his art, nor none, perhaps, was endowed 
with a grander conception of the spiritual and material 
world. Art was his mistress, the sole, absorbing interest 
of his life. No toils were too toilsome, no labors too un- 
remitting, when offered at her shrine. Perfection was 
the end he proposed to himself, and this end he pursued 
with a stern and rugged perseverance, which inspired 
him with a certain contempt for the efforts of others and 
at the same time with a certain diffidence in his own 
power — a diffidence that refutes the unjust aspersion of 
pride, so often cast upon him. An anecdote is told that 
a certain Cardinal, finding him one day among the ruins 
of ancient Rome, asked him what he was doing, to which 
he replied, "I am still learning." Among his designs 
was one of an old man in a go-cart, with the inscription, 
Ancoi-a impai-a — Still learning. Such was the constant de- 
sire of improvement which followed him from boyhood 
to old age. 

Angelo never married, nor does he seem to have ever 
seriously thought of it. He was never known to have 
an attachment for one of the opposite sex, except his 
famous Platonic affection for Vittoria Colonna, Marchio- 
ness of Pescara, who for talent, virtue, and piety was the 
most eminent woman of her time. For her he enter- 
tained a most enthusiastic admiration; their friendship 
was deep and ardent, and at the same time noble and 
elevating. No doubt can exist that it exerted a marked 
effect upon the genius and character of the artist. 

To Vittoria Colonna mam 7 of his poems are addressed, 
and this brings us to a momenta^ consideration of An- 
gelo as a poet. He has written numerous sonnets, most 
of which have been translated, some b}~ Wordsworth; but 



MICHAEL ANGELO. 



77 



however well rendered into English, they have necessarily 
lost that smoothness of rhythm and the exquisite melody 
which belongs to the beautiful Tuscan tongue. Hazlitt 
declares those on religious subjects to be the best, and 
those on love to be " a rude mixture of Platonism and 
metaphysics." 

It is, in fact, true of his every effort, whether in paint- 
ing, sculpture, or architecture — those of a religious char- 
acter were always the best. For a deep, earnest faith was 
the groundwork of all he did; religion his highest inspi- 
ration; by its aid he attained an eminence which, per- 
haps, no other man has ever reached in so many branches 
of art. He was a sincere and practical Catholic; nor did 
he consider it inconsistent with his dignity to say his 
beads, hear Mass often, and frequent the Sacraments. 
In these things he found the inspiration which made of 
him the great sculptor, the great painter, and, above all, 
the great architect. 

He was very fond of solitude, preferring the society of 
his books to that of men. Yet no one ever possessed a 
more profound knowledge of the world, or was more in- 
timately acquainted with the habits, the ways of think- 
ing, and the various peculiarities of his fellow-men. It 
may have been the combination of these qualities which 
gained him the reputation of being both morose and 
cynical. In temper he was undoubtedly hasty and iras- 
cible, and, as his old quarrel with Torregiano sufficiently 
proves, haughty and sarcastic. On that occasion — it was 
in the ancient Carmelite Church, whither they had gone 
to study the frescoes of Massaccio — Torregiano became so 
enraged by the stinging sarcasms of Angelo, that he seized 
a mallet and flattened the great man's nose, giving him 
a mark which he bore till his death. Yet, while his de- 
fects of temper made him many enemies, those who knew 
him best loved him well, for he was generous and kindly 



78 



NAMES THAT LIVE. 



and liberal even to a fault. The story of his servant 
Urbino is a striking illustration of his more endearing 
qualities. When he felt himself growing old, he asked 
Urbino one day: 

" What will become of you, poor Urbino, if I die ?" 

"I suppose," answered Urbino, "I must e'en seek 
another master." 

" That shall never be," cried Angelo; and forthwith he 
made over to him a thousand crowns, which would be a 
liberal provision in case he survived him ; but the ser- 
vant departed before the master, and during his last ill- 
ness Angelo watched beside him with all possible care 
and devotion. When he died, the great artist wrote to 
Vasari the following touching words: 

" My Urbino is dead, to my infinite grief and sorrow. 
Living he served me truly, and dying he taught me how 
to die. I now have but the hope of seeing him again in 
Paradise." 

Angelo for some time continued a correspondence with 
Urbino's widow, expressing the greatest affection for the 
children, making them various gifts, and in short giving 
every proof of his sincere attachment to the memory of 
his humble friend. 

The great artist was a close and constant student; he 
was particularly fond of the study of the Scriptures, and 
dwelt with delight upon the works of Dante and Petrarch. 

His personal character was in all respects above re- 
proach: his honor was unsullied, his life pure and blame- 
less, his disposition kind and generous. Of his faults 
there is but little to be said, and we have already hinted 
at them in a preceding paragraph. These faults of tem- 
per, petty weaknesses, which made him, indeed, bitter 
enemies in life, died with him; only his virtues, his lov- 
able qualities, remain to heighten the splendor of his 
fame. 



MICHAEL ANGELO. 



79 



In conclusion, we have but to quote some opinions held 
of him by his contemporaries, or by more recent writers 
upon art. Varchi, in the extravagance of his admira- 
tion, says, " Had he been born a native of Scythia, under 
some barbarous chieftain, instead of in the bright era of 
Lorenzo the Magnificent, he would still have been Mi- 
chael Angelo, unique in painting, unparalleled in sculp- 
ture, a perfect architect, an admirable poet, and a divine 
lover." Ariosto thus addresses him, playing upon his 
name: 

" E quel, ch'a par sculpe, e colora, 

Michel, piu che mortal, angel' divino."* 

" His style," says Alzog, the historian, "is characterized 
by sublimit)* of conception, nobility of form, and ease 
and breadth of manner." 

Vasari and others also speak of him with enthusiasm, 
while his great and, perhaps, only rival, the immortal 
Raphael, frequently exclaimed that " he thanked God 
for having been born in the time of Michael Angelo." A 
learned Siennese writer, Claudio Tolemei, declares that 
by man}- and great artists he was considered "the mas- 
ter, prince, and deity of design." By the great ones of 
his time he was held in the highest esteem. Upon one 
occasion, when he appeared before Pope Julius III., that 
pontiff received him standing and seated him on his right 
hand in the presence of a great multitude of cardinals, 
princes, and prelates. He enjoyed in a marked degree 
the constant favor and support of the successive popes, 
under whose reigns he lived and labored, each in turn 
being his munificent patron. 

So we have done, and must leave Michael Angelo at 



* <l Michael, both by painting and sculpture more than mortal, an 
angel divine." - - 

\ Hazlitt's translation of Duffa's Angelo. 



8o 



NAMES THAT LIVE. 



rest in the great vault of Santa Croce, where statues of 
painting, sculpture, and architecture keep watch around 
his tomb. Through life, like the hero of an ancient leg- 
end, he pursued unceasingly his doom of immortality, 
which would not give him rest. The surging waves of 
time and death closed over all who had been his con- 
temporaries, while alone he still toiled on. Solemn and 
drear the waters of the cold, dark sea at last engulfed 
him; unto his mighty heart came peace; unto his indom- 
itable spirit calm; unto the glory of his genius darkness. 
But the darkness burst asunder, to the gaze of admiring 
posterity. Upon a mountain of living flame stands An- 
gelo, with the threefold art he loved crowning him with 
a diadem of immortal fame. Beholding him thus, we 
cry aloud: Hail to thee, Angelo, hail, for "II mondo ha 
molti re, ed un solo Michel Angelo."* 



* The saying of the illustrious Aretino, " The world has many kings, 
and but one Michael Angelo." 



Jfejdxrraj mix gaunter uf (jttrfttfy 



Wandering there 'mongst the red men, 
I bless d God in truth and i?i secret, 
That he had not suffered my lot to be with the heathen, 
But cast it in France — among a, people so Christian; 
And then I bethought me, per adventure to 7?ie it is give?i 
To lead the vanguard of Truth to the inmost recesses 
Of this lost region of souls who know not the Gospel, 
And these were the thoughts I had far away in the woodla?tds, 
When I saw the savages arm'd, and heard the roar of their 
war-cry. 

McGee. 



I 



Explorer and Founder of Quebec. 

~HE Canada of to-day is a flourishing dominion, 
containing many prosperous and populous 
cities, and many happy homes of more than 
Saxon comfort. But the Canada of the past fills us 
with a vision of " forests primeval," dark with the cathe- 
dral-like gloom of gnarled oaks olden, white in the 
spring-time with the blossoms of the acacia, and in 
their hidden depths rendered almost impassable by the 
thick interlacings of primitive pines and cedars. Canada 
of the past was then, as now, the Canada of the swift- 
rolling St. Lawrence and the dark blue Ottawa; bat in 
those far-off times their waters reflected naught save the 
forest-mantled mountains, the wild, rugged shores cov- 
ered with a pathless wilderness of uncultivated wood- 
land. The mariners who dared the swift rapids and 
steered their barks through the treacherous rocks were 
Indians, and their vessels birch canoes. 

Canada of the past is the battlefield upon which the 
warriors of the Cross fought and died, and is also the 
foster-mother of countless heroes. But the heroes to 
whom we more particularly allude are the missionaries — 
those fearless men, who, far among the boundless tracts 
of the country of the Hurons, Iroquois, or Algonquins, 
beside their rolling streams, upon the bosom of their 




m 



8 4 



NAMES THAT LIVE. 



great lakes, in the heart of their mighty forests, on the 
mountain-top, in the depths of valleys, in the wigwams, 
near the dying, at the altar, at the stake, were forever 
to be found. Lallemant, Brebceuf, ye sainted men of 
yore, your blood has sanctified the streams and hill-tops, 
the very air is laden with the memory of your mighty 
deeds. 

At this present stage of our sketch, however, we will 
not pause to consider these missionaries, and especially 
the Jesuits, in their true character as the authors or pio- 
neers of early Canadian civilization; nor shall we take 
time to observe the claims of the Recollet Fathers to 
the gratitude of the settlers amongst whom they labored 
even before the Sons of Loyola had set foot upon the 
soil. In the course of our work we may notice these 
things as they occur, but meantime shall bring forth 
such facts as we have found in the archives of the past, 
all of which clearly prove that even the very presence of 
the missionaries in Canada was owing to the indefati- 
gable efforts of the illustrious Frenchman, Samuel de 
Champlain. 

He was born at Brouage, in Saintonge, and according 
to the most authentic accounts, in 1567. The exact 
date of his birth is, however, a vexed question among 
his biographers. He sprang from an humble stock — 
from a race of fishermen, the " toilers of the sea," the 
dwellers upon her changeful waters. The family seem 
to have risen somewhat in the social scale, for at the 
time of Samuel de Champlain's marriage in 16 11 his 
father is mentioned in the contract as Antoine de Cham- 
plain, capitalize de la marine, or sea-captain. 

Champlain, however, inherited a love for the sea, and 
felt the full witchery of her changing moods and rest- 
less motion. The gray mists that rose at dawn from her 
caverns, like voyagers embarking on a new journey; the 



SAMUEL DE CHA MP LA IN. 



S3 



gold of the noontide plentifully besprinkling the azure 
plain of waters; the evening glories that, as a miser con- 
ceals his treasure, were hidden at dusk by the avaricious 
ocean — had each its own peculiar charm for him. But 
the storm bursting over the seething main, the foam, like 
white, despairing faces on the surface of the waves, the 
anger of the sky reflected in the sullen waters, and the 
war to death between contending elements, possessed a 
fatal fascination for him, and lured him away to brave 
their fury where their power was mightiest. 

He gives a hint of this feeling in a letter addressed 
many years later to the queen regent: 

"The art of seafaring," he writes, "is that which, 
since my earliest years, has most strongly attracted me, 
and impelled me to expose myself during many years 
of my life to the fury of the ocean waves." 

This partiality for a life of adventure did not, how- 
ever, prevent him from devoting most of his leisure time 
to study, and the acquiring of that accurate and com- 
prehensive knowledge for which he was afterwards re- 
markable. We do* not find any detailed account of the 
precise manner in which these early years were passed, 
but we can readily suppose him to have followed his 
father's calling, and accompanied him on some of his 
short voyages. The first accurate information we get 
of him is when in 1594, or thereabouts, he receives the 
appointment of Marechal des logis, in which position he 
remains till 1598. 

Champlain's uncle, a veteran tar, was at this time 
famous throughout France as an experienced seaman 
and a successful pilot, having been once employed as 
chief pilot to the King of Spain. Somewhere about 
1598 he received a commission from Marshal de Brissac 
to proceed to Spain, piloting thither the Spanish vessels. 

Champlain, all enthusiasm for a seafaring life, and 



86 



NAMES THAT LIVE. 



filled with a craving for adventure, determined if possi- 
ble to accompany his uncle. He had also an ulterior 
object, hoping that during his stay in Spain some oppor- 
tunity might occur for a voyage to the West Indies. 

He set sail, therefore, with his uncle, in a vessel called 
the " Saint Julien," which upon their arrival in Spain 
was declared to be " a stout craft and a swift sailer, 5 : 
and was retained in the service of the Spanish king. So 
Champlain remained in Spain, hoping for some fortu- 
nate circumstance which should send him over the sea 
to the new continent. These dreams of future voyages 
did not, however, prevent him from occupying each mo- 
ment of his time. He made out charts of every place at 
which the vessel touched; and drew a plan of the city of 
Cadiz, as also of San Lucar de Barrameda, at which lat- 
ter port they made considerable stay. Then it was that 
his desire of a voyage to the Indies seemed about to be 
gratified. Porto Rico was threatened by the English; 
the King of Spain was determined to protect it, and for 
that purpose thought of sending out a fleet of twenty 
vessels, including the " Saint Julien." While the vessels 
were being rigged and put into order for this long and 
perilous voyage, news came that Porto Rico had surren- 
dered to the English. Champlain felt the disappoint- 
ment keenly, and feared that his dream would prove 
indeed a dream. 

But Don Francisco Colombe, who had come thither to 
take command of the Spanish fleet, was about to make 
a voyage to the West Indies, and being pleased with the 
" Saint Julien," and aware of her fine sailing powers, de- 
termined to take her with him. The sturdy old Pro- 
vencal tar, Champlain's uncle, who had been in command 
of her, was needed for other duty, and his nephew, 
already known as a promising sailor, was appointed in 
his place. 



SAMUEL DE CHAMPLAIN. 



In the month of January, 1599,, Champlain set sail for 
the South American coast, where he arrived somewhere 
about the middle of April. Would that we could follow 
our sailor, afloat upon the boundless ocean, with the rest- 
less heart of youth aglow within him, or keep pace with 
his wanderings through the new and beautiful land, in 
the delights of which he fairly revelled, visiting all those 
places in the Antilles and the Spanish territories the fame 
of which had already crossed the far blue ocean. He 
speaks of these countries in the following glowing terms: 

" No one," he says, " could see, nor desire to see, a more 
beautiful region than the Kingdom of New Spain; the eye 
loses itself in wide-spreading plains, over which roam 
innumerable herds of cattle, for its pastures are always 
green; it is beautified by grand rivers and streams inter- 
secting the greater part of the kingdom; diversified by 
magnificent forests of the finest possible trees. But," he 
continues, "the delight which I experienced from all 
these beauties was little to what I felt when I beheld 
the fair city of Mexico." 

In his "Voyage Aux Indes," in the first volume of 
his Works, he gives us the result of his wanderings 
through these luxuriant regions. He tells us of the 
people; he describes their manners and customs; he 
takes careful note of places; he gives us glowing ac- 
counts of the exquisite natural scenery and abundant 
vegetation of these southern countries. So when he 
returned to Europe he brought the king such details of 
the Spanish-American territories as might prove of the 
greatest interest and advantage to Spain. 

On his return from America, Champlain remained in 
his native France, and soon grew in favor with distin- 
guished persons at the French Court, and was granted a 
pension by the king for faithful and accurate accounts 
of the New World. 



88 



NAMES THAT LIVE. 



Among the great commanders of the day was the cele- 
brated De Chaste. He had long been revolving in his 
mind certain great schemes relative to colonization in 
the unexplored portions of the American continent. 
Some of these plans he communicated to Champlain, 
hoping to obtain useful advice and information upon 
the subject. At last he determined to put his plans into 
execution, and endeavor to establish a colony in North 
America, which might lead to the conversion of the 
aborigines. 

The Sieur Chauvin, whom he had at first chosen for 
the undertaking, died, and De Chaste now entrusted the 
command of an expedition to Champlain. Due prepara- 
tion being made, the vessel sailed from Honfleur on the 
15th of March. Wind and weather proved sufficiently 
favorable, though towards the end of the voyage they 
experienced some rough weather. 

They arrived at Tadousac upon the 24th of May. 
The wild and rugged shore which met their view was 
lined with savages of the Montagnais and Algonquin 
tribes. In mute amazement they watched the debarka- 
tion of the pale-faces, who had come in their " fire- 
canoes" across the " Big Sea Water." Pont-Grave, who 
accompanied Champlain, had visited this region before, 
and brought one or two Indians back with him to France. 
One of these Indians now arose, and made an animated 
harangue to the savages. In glowing terms, full of the 
wild hyperbole of his race, he told them of his voyage 
to the country of the pale-faces; of their king, and of his 
reception at the court. He told them also that the Great 
Chief had promised to befriend them, to make an alli- 
ance for them with the Iroquois, or, failing that, assist 
them in their wars. 

The Indians listened breathlessly; their perfect gravity 
undisturbed, and their only sign of interest an occa- 



SAMUEL DE CHA MP LA IN. 



8 9 



sional " ugh" or " tehee," which they use to express ad- 
miration or satisfaction. When the orator had con- 
cluded his address, the Grand Sachem arose, and passed 
round the calumet or peace-pipe, offering it first to 
Champlain, Pont-Grave, and to the principal Indian 
chiefs. This was a declaration of friendship towards 
the whites. 

Making but a short delay at Tadoussac, Champlain 
sailed up the river to the Great Falls of St. Louis, ac- 
companied by Pont-Grave and one or two of their crew. 
Their object was, if possible, to reach the source of the 
great river, which no European mariner had yet at- 
tempted. Up the broad river, past the rugged shores, 
sombre with the dense forest growth, under the shadows 
of the hills, sailed our mariners in a frail skiff, which 
bounded light as a feather over the blue waters. As 
they approached the Falls the river began to break in 
foaming waves upon the shore, and before them they 
beheld the seething rapids dashing over the rocks and 
sending up volumes of spray. They found further prog- 
ress impossible, and, as Champlain tells us, "could only 
observe the difficulties to be overcome, the country, and 
the length of the river ;" while they also learned from 
the savages all that they could of the habits of the na- 
tives, the products of the country, and the source of the 
great rivers, especially the St. Lawrence. 

Pending the conclusion of a treaty with the red men, 
Champlain sailed down towards Gaspe, to examine the 
condition of the country thereabouts, and to obtain in- 
formation of certain mines. 

He then returned to France, bringing reports as to the 
condition of affairs in the New World, and accounts of 
their voyage. Henry of Navarre was at that time the 
reigning sovereign, and, inspired by the glowing accounts 
of the mariners, he became very desirous of possessing 



9 o 



NAMES THAT LIVE. 



a portion of that beautiful region beyond the western 
wave. Distance lent it that enchantment which hung 
round the Ultima Thule of the ancients, and pictured it 
as a land full of beauty and mystery, rich in all material 
ffoods. 

The king, therefore, resolved to encourage Champlain 
in his taste for adventure, and to further all schemes 
which had for their object the colonization of North 
America. At this juncture De Chaste died, and was suc- 
ceeded by M. de Monts. This latter had visited the Ca- 
nadian coast before. He knew the rigor of the climate, 
and the hardships which would fall to the lot of the dar- 
ing pioneer who sought to make a home amid its forests. 
He was anxious to found a settlement in the New World, 
but was also anxious that it should be in a milder climate. 
He consulted Champlain upon the subject, and Cham- 
plain encouraged him in his views; for, like" him, the 
latter had experienced something of the severity of the 
Canadian climate, in addition to which he had always 
felt a sort of yearning for the south. 

Back to him came gentle breezes redolent with the rich 
perfume of the magnolia; back to him came soft south- 
ern nights, when the stars of a new hemisphere met in 
strange and unfamiliar constellations in the blue firma- 
ment above him; back to him came the tuneful notes of 
the bright-plumaged birds of tropic forests; back to him 
came the rich and wild and marvellous luxuriance of the 
Southland, haunting him with a yearning to make him- 
self a home under its fervid sky. 

With this desire in his mind he rejoiced that his new 
patron should have resolved to found a settlement not, it 
is true, whither his fancy would have led him, but at least 
in a milder climate and under a more congenial sun than 
that of Canada. 

So, when next he visited the land of the setting sun, 



SAMUEL DE CHAM PLAIN. 



91 



his course lay towards the milder and more fertile shores 
of Acadie. It was still spring when they rounded Cape 
de la Heve, but the summer had passed before they de- 
cided upon a place suitable for their purpose. As they 
cruised along the Acadian shore, they saw Port Royal, 
resting like a gem upon the waters, and attracting them 
by its beautiful scenery and natural advantages. M. de 
Monts had accompanied the expedition in person. So 
with Champlain he spent three years amid the " forests 
primeval," within hearing of " the deep-mouthed ocean" 
and its incessant roar. 

Champlain made several voyages thence to various 
portions of the continent, and amongst other places of 
interest visited a part of what is now Xew England, and 
especially Maine, then the country of the Etchemins, pass- 
ing on to where years later the " Mayflower" was to land, 
and the Pilgrim Fathers, in their sad-colored garments, 
to set foot upon the soil of their new settlement. He 
pushed his discoveries in that direction as far south as 
Cape Cod. 

From passages in the " Voyages of Champlain" we 
catch a glimpse of the life of these first settlers at Port 
Royal; a life, indeed it was, full of romantic interest, 
of exceeding peril, of inevitable hardship and privation. 
Of the second winter of their stay Champlain speaks thus: 

"We passed that winter very joyously," writes he, 
"and made good cheer, by means of the ' Ordre de Bon- 
temps,' which I established, and which every one found 
very beneficial to his health, and more profitable than all 
the medicines that could be used. It consisted of a chain 
which, with divers little ceremonies, we put round the 
neck of one of our people, appointing him thus for the 
day our caterer. The next day another took his place, 
which produced a sort of rivalry as to who should fur- 
nish us with the best game." 



9 2 



NAMES THAT LIVE. 



In 1607 Champlain returned to France, bringing with 
him, as before, accurate accounts of the countries he had 
visited and the rivers he had navigated, describing also 
their residences at Port Royal, as well as a temporary 
one at the island of Sainte Croix, where they had made 
a short stay. 

Meanwhile M. de Monts had met with various losses 
and disappointments. The jealousy and the intrigues of 
others had so successfully militated against him, that he 
was obliged to abandon the Acadian colony. However, 
he was not discouraged, but communicated to Champlain 
a new scheme by which he hoped to found a settlement 
farther north, in defiance of the biting winds and intense 
cold of a Canadian winter. He proved to Champlain 
that the banks of the St. Lawrence offered an unequalled 
facility for commerce. Besides this, the subject of a 
north-westerly passage had been much discussed ever 
since the time of Columbus, and both Champlain and his 
patron were of opinion that a settlement on the St. 
Lawrence might also lead to its discovery. 

For this purpose two vessels were equipped. Pont- 
Grave was appointed to the command, with Champlain 
as his lieutenant. Champlain had already decided upon 
Quebec as the site of the future colony. The situation 
was favorable, and could be easily defended. The origin 
of the name Quebec seems to be a somewhat disputed 
point. But the most probable theory is that it was so 
called by the savages because it was situated in a nar- 
row or contracted part of the river. It, in fact, stood at 
the confluence of a small stream called the St. Charles 
and the St. Lawrence. 

The little band of colonists landed upon a projecting 
point of land, and lost no time in preparing temporary 
dwellings, where the red man had hitherto held undis- 
puted sway. The surroundings were wild and rugged; 



SAMUEL DE CHA MP LA IN. 



93 



high rocks, vast forests of oak and pine, and the great 
river stretching before and around them. But clearings 
were soon made, strips of forest disappeared, and houses 
grew up with almost magical rapidity. 

Time went on, and the little colony seemed to prosper- 
under Champlain's fostering care; but envy and jealousy 
had not been left behind in the Old World, and soon 
began to show signs of their existence. Among the 
settlers was a man named Jean Duval, who was noted 
for his bravery, and had done good service in certain 
skirmishes with the Indians. Hence he was justly held 
in esteem by his fellow-colonists. With him originated 
a plot to assassinate the governor, in whatever manner 
should be found easiest. Poison and a train of gun- 
powder were finally resolved upon; but some of the con- 
spirators repenting, divulged the plot, and the leader 
was hung, and others concerned in it sent to the galleys. 

Disease having broken out among the colonists, 
Champlain searched for the Auneda tree, which had 
been successfully used by Cartier in combating maladies 
peculiar to their mode of life. The tree could not be 
found, and from this circumstance it was supposed that 
the tribe from whom Cartier had learned the secret, or 
upon whom he had tried it, were extinct, probably exter- 
minated by hostile nations. 

Champlain soon found to his cost that quarrels were 
frequent among the children of the forest, and the results 
of such quarrels disastrous to the peace and welfare of 
the colony. In the vicinity of Quebec were innumerable 
hordes of savages, whose predatory habits involved them 
in constant warfare with their enemies, the Iroquois. 
These tribes hoped everything from the assistance of the 
whites, and as Champlain was naturally anxious to be on 
friendly terms with his neighbors, he became involved 
in a disastrous struggle with the Iroquois, who were the 



94 



NAMES THAT LIVE. 



most powerful nation of America. They banded to- 
gether in a sort of league, which included what was 
called the Five Nations, and these were subdivided into 
tribes, called respectively the Bear, the Wolf, and the 
Tortoise. 

Champlain has been by many historians severely 
blamed for his contests with the Iroquois. But these 
historians have doubtless overlooked the facts of the 
case. If he had been on terms of enmity with his neigh- 
bors, the safety and even the very existence of the settle- 
ment would have been constantly endangered; whereas 
the Iroquois were a distant tribe, and one that openly 
professed scorn and hatred for the whites, and in all cir- 
cumstances proved themselves their unrelenting enemies. 
Besides this, the Hurons and other adjacent tribes in 
many instances befriended the colonists, and were from 
beginning to end stanch and devoted allies of "Champlain. 

In June of the year 1609, Champlain, together with 
Pont-Grave, set out from Tadousac on a voyage of 
discovery. Their object was to gain further knowledge 
of the country and the people, their habits and mode of 
life, and such particulars as might be thereafter useful. 

It may be of interest to observe the origin of the 
struggle between the Iroquois and Algonquin tribes. A 
tradition of the place, to which too much weight must 
not however be attached, declares its root to have been 
in a dispute about the chase. Once the Algonquins 
went forth to hunt the bear or bison, and returned 
empty-handed. Seeing this, the Iroquois begged that 
they might be allowed to try their luck. The Algon- 
quins indignantly refused, and the Iroquois, waiting till 
night, went forth by the light of the moon, and brought 
in an abundant supply of game. The vengeful Algon- 
quins bided their time, but when the hunters slept the 
deep sleep of fatigue and exhaustion they cut off their 



SAMUEL DE CHAMP LAIN. 



95 



heads. Henceforth the red tomahawk of war was 
unsheathed between the nations, and so continued from 
time immemorial. 

When Champlain returned from his voyage the neigh- 
boring tribes began to remind him that ten moons had 
not passed since he had promised to assist them against 
their deadly foe. Anxious to conciliate them, hoping 
also to bring about a final reconciliation with the 
Iroquois, and eager to explore their distant country, 
Champlain determined to give what help he could to 
the allies. 

So taking with him some twenty or thirty of his men, 
he set out in company with the savages. In solemn 
silence they sailed up the Sorel river, and entered that 
lake now known by the great explorer's name (Lake 
Champlain). Their birch barks glided swiftly through 
the still, blue waters, the plashing of the oars in the 
hands of Indian oarsmen making scarce a ripple on the 
surface of the lake. Past those beautiful shores which 
border Lake Champlain, and that noble scenery now so 
familiar to most of us, they hastened on their mission of 
war and desolation. 

They landed on a portion of the shore adjoining the 
camp of the Iroquois. Night came down solemnly upon 
the ancient forests; the wind murmured in weird cadences 
among the mighty trees; the bright golden stars of a 
northern firmament glimmered through the branches, 
and the lake, dark and tranquil, laved the green shores. 
Camp-fires glowed in the forest darkness, showing the 
dim outlines of the wigwams, and the dusky forms of 
Indians with wampum belts and plumes and war-paint. 
At length the silence was broken; the night-bird fled 
shrieking to her covert, as the savages chanted their dis- 
cordant war-songs and danced their hideous dance of 
death. From either camp opprobrious epithets were 



9 6 



NAMES THAT LIVE. 



hurled at the foe, till each had lashed itself into fury, 
and the day broke. The sun streaked the East with 
red, like the war-paint of the savage, and came slowly 
and reluctantly through the overarching forests down 
upon the two camps. 

The Iroquis advanced with the bearing of conquerors, 
proud and self-confident. They were about two hundred 
in number, and being tall and symmetrically formed, 
presented a fine though uncouth appearance. As had 
been previously arranged, Champlain stepped forward 
with one or two of his men, who in fact constituted his 
whole retinue, the remainder having stayed behind. The 
Iroquois gazed at him in astonishment and terror. No 
such adversary had ever before confronted them, and 
they knew not the best mode of dealing with him. How- 
ever, they discharged a shower of arrows, but to their dis- 
may the stranger advanced unhurt, and blew smoke and 
fire out of a war-club in his hand. The loud report of 
the musket terrified them, and when they glanced around 
they saw several of their number stretched upon the 
ground. Clearly, they thought, this man must be a mes- 
senger from the Great Spirit. 

On the other hand the allies were delighted, and 
begged Champlain to fire again. The other two French- 
men stepped forward and discharged their muskets. The 
Iroquois, completely unmanned, fled in confusion, leav- 
ing behind them the killed and wounded, and several 
prisoners in the hands of the allies. 

Champlain was compelled to witness a most appalling 
spectacle. The savages assembled at night in front of 
their wigwams, and fastening one of their prisoners to a 
tree, chanted the death hymn around him. It was simply 
a detailed account of the tortures to be inflicted. Calmly 
the victim listened with the grim endurance of his race, 
nor gave the faintest sign of fear or horror at his fate. 



SAMUEL DE CHA MP LA IN. 



97 



Vainly did Champlain endeavor to save him from an end 
so appalling; but the savages would not be balked of 
their prey, and at dawn put him to death with the most 
inhuman tortures. 

Champlain soon after went to France, where he re- 
mained but a short time, and returning found the Al- 
gonquins and Montagnais impatiently waiting for the 
coming of the French chief to lead them to battle. He 
consented on certain conditions, but in this second expe- 
dition against the Iroquois found them better prepared, 
they having erected fortifications, consisting of stakes 
driven into the ground. Champlain and his allies were 
finally victorious, and the Iroquois were cut to pieces. 
In this engagement he received a wound between the ear 
and neck, which fortunately had no serious consequences. 

After a brief interval, Champlain again visited his na- 
tive land, leaving Du Pare in command at Quebec. The 
king was dead; certain intrigues relative to the colony 
were taking place at Brouage, and Champlain remained 
there some time, arranging the affairs of the settlement. 
It was during this absence from Quebec that Cham- 
plain's marriage contract was signed. With all the 
weighty matters that occupied his mind, and in spite of 
the roving, desultory life he had led, he seems to have 
been not insensible to the influence of the tender passion. 
His choice was in some respects a singular one. Helene 
Boulle, daughter of the king's private secretary, was only 
twelve years old at the time of her betrothal, which took 
place in 1611, and had been educated in the rigid tenets 
of Calvinism. Before her marria'ge, however, she became 
a Catholic, and ever afterwards clung with deep and 
loyal affection to the one true faith. Ardently the child- 
wife longed to accompany her husband to his far home 
in the western wilderness. She yearned to share his 
dangers, and enjoy the unconventional delights of colonial 



9 8 



NAMES THAT LIVE. 



life. Her youthful fancy tinged the great world beyond 
the ocean with a halo of romance, and lent its poetry to 
the uncertainties, the perils and the hardships of such an 
existence. It was, however, deemed advisable for her to 
remain in France, on account of her extreme youth. 
Perchance, in the twelve years that elapsed before she 
joined her husband in the western world, time had dis- 
pelled many of these illusions, and caused her to dwell 
rather on the privations and hardships to be endured, 
than on the romantic joys of a residence in the wilds. 

Champlain returned to America with Pont-Grave. 
High winds and rough seas, together with dense fogs, so 
delayed them that they did not reach Tadousac till the 
middle of May. He proceeded almost immediately to 
Sault St. Louis, or the Great Falls, where he was to meet 
the Algonquins. This was the great trading-post, whither 
the trappers came in great numbers to trade with the 
Indians for furs. Then it was that Champlain conceived 
the design of building a habitation in that region to fa- 
cilitate intercourse with the savages. He chose a favor- 
able site, which was cleared and made ready for building. 
He called the spot Place Royale, and from this humble 
beginning sprang in later years Montreal, the Queen City 
of the North. 

Champlain was at this time much occupied by the 
question of the evangelization of the heathen tribes. 
This had always been one of his most cherished designs; 
and in fact he was frequently heard to declare that " the 
salvation of one soul is of more value than the conquest 
of an empire; and that kings ought not to think of ex- 
tending their authority over idolatrous nations, except 
for the purpose of subjecting them to Jesus Christ." 

On one occasion Champlain questioned a savage as to 
the religious belief of his nation. He asked the chief if 
they believed in God. Yes, they believed in one Great 



SAMUEL DE CHAMPLAIN. 



99 



Manitou, or Spirit, who had made all things. Champlain 
then asked if they believed that God created man. The 
chief said, "Yes; when the Great Spirit had made every- 
thing else, he took a quiver of arrows and stuck them 
into the ground, and thence sprang men and women." 
Champlain explained to him that Adam was first cre- 
ated, Eve given as a helpmate; and, in a word, told 
him all the old story of the beautiful garden and its 
ravishing delights, amid which man had spent his primal 
morning. The Indian further said that they believed in 
one Great Spirit, in his Son, in a Mother, and in the Sun 
that illumines the earth. He added that God was above 
all, but that he was no better than he oughc to be; that 
his Son was good, and did much for mankind; that the 
Mother was bad, and would eat the red man; but that 
the bright Sun that shone above them was good, and 
brought great blessings to earth. 

Champlain asked if they believed that God had ever 
come down upon earth, and the savage answered : 

"In the legends of our people, it is told that in the 
far-off time five warriors went yonder to the red home 
of the setting sun, and as they journeyed they met the 
Manitou who lives upon the mountain top. And he 
asked them, saying, 

" ' Whither go ye ? ' 

" And they answered, 

" < To seek for life.' 

"And the Great Spirit told them, 

"< Ye will find it here.' 

" Unheeding, the warriors passed on, and the Great 
Spirit touched two of them with a stone, and they were 
turned into stone. Then he asked the other three, 

" 4 Whither go ye ? ' 

" And they answered, 

" ' To seek for life.' 



IOO 



NAMES THAT LIVE. 



"'Here will ye find it,' said the Creator; 'go no fur- 
ther.' 

" But they heard not, and the Spirit taking a stick 
turned two of them into sticks. And but one remained. 

" ' Whither goest thou ? ' said the Spirit. 

" 'Onward to the setting sun, that I may seek for life.' 

" ' Here thou shalt find life. Pass not onwards.' 

"And the warrior listened and obeyed. Then the 
Great Spirit gave him the flesh of bear and bison, and 
when the brave had feasted, bade him return to his 
people and tell them of the Manitou, and of what had 
befallen their brothers." 

Again, the savage told him the Great Spirit came to a 
warrior, who was smoking, and asked him to lend him 
his pipe. The warrior gave it, and when the Manitou had 
smoked, he broke it. Then the warrior asked why he 
had broken the pipe when he knew he had no other. 
And the Manitou, giving him a new pipe, bade him take 
it to the Sachem of his tribe, and tell him to " guard and 
keep it from evil, and while he did so his tribe should 
want for nothing." 

The warrior took it to the chief, and the chief guarded 
it, and while it remained in his possession all was well; 
but in an unlucky moment he lost it, and famine came 
among the tribe. 

Champlain asked him if he really believed this fable. 
And the savage answered, 

" It is true, my brother. 

Then Champlain told him of God, the Father, Son, and 
Holy Ghost; of the Redemption; of the Blessed Virgin; 
of the Saints and Angels, and the country of perpetual 
joy, far surpassing the happy hunting-grounds, whereon 
they hoped to rejoin their departed brethren. The sav- 
age listened eagerly, and asked how he should pray to 
the God of the pale-faces. 



SAMUEL DE CHA M PL A IN. 



IOI 



Champlain soon after sailed for France, hoping to 
obtain assistance which should enable him to bring out 
missionaries to labor among the savages and teach them 
the knowledge of the true God. His noble project did 
not meet with the encouragement it deserved, and mean- 
while some vessels arrived from Quebec. They brought 
news that the savages in great numbers had come down 
that year to the Great Falls to meet Champlain; that, not 
finding him, they loudly expressed their grief and disap- 
pointment; while certain enemies of the governor led 
them to believe that Champlain was dead, and would 
meet them no more, whether for peace or for war. 

During this visit to France, Champlain succeeded in 
placing the colony under the patronage of the Count de 
Soissons, a wealthy and influential nobleman, and one 
whom he rightly judged would advance as far as pos- 
sible its religious interests. De Soissons died soon after 
his appointment, and his successor was more occupied 
with political matters than with the spiritual affairs of 
savages in the wilds of the western world. 

While still in his native country, Champlain was 
inspired with the hope of finding the long-sought north- 
westerly passage. A man recently returned from Canada 
declared that the lake in which the Outaouais had its 
source discharged itself into the North Sea. He gave 
an account of a pretended voyage thither, during which 
he had seen the wrecks of English vessels lying up6n the 
shore. This had some show of probability, as the Eng- 
lish were at that time pushing their explorations very far 
north. 

Animated by this hope, Champlain made all necessary 
preparations, and set sail from the island of St. Helena 
on the 27th of May, 1613, on a quest as vain as the 
memorable voyage of the Golden Fleece. Favorable 
winds soon brought him to the Isle des Allumettes, 



102 



NAMES THAT LIVE. 



where dwelt Tessouat, the Great Sachem of the Algon- 
quins. 

Champlain was accompanied by one savage and four 
Frenchmen, amongst whom was De Vignaux, the boast- 
ful traveller. The savages received the governor with 
every mark of joy and respect. Tessouat gave a great 
banquet in his honor, and invited all the neighboring 
chiefs. This over, the calumet was smoked, and Cham- 
plain began to tell them of his plans, asking their advice 
and assistance. He told them that he had been mainly 
induced to attempt the passage by the accounts of 
De Vignaux, who had pushed his explorations to the 
far north. 

The truth was, De Vignaux had never gone farther 
than the Isle des Allumettes, and so indignant were the 
savages at his daring imposition, that Champlain could 
scarcely restrain them from putting him to death on the 
spot. Overcome with fear and confusion, the impostor 
fell on his knees and confessed that he had supposed the 
perilous nature of the enterprise would have deterred 
Champlain from attempting it, and that he should have 
gained a reward for his information, without running 
any risk of detection. 

The voyage, however, was turned to good account; 
for the savages during Champlain's absence had become 
alienated from the whites, and even declared their inten- 
tion of going no more to the trading-posts. The gov- 
ernor, notwithstanding, succeeded in re-establishing the 
old friendly terms between them and the whites. 

On his next voyage to France, Champlain effected his 
long-cherished design of establishing a powerful com- 
pany, composed of merchants of Rouen, Saint Malo, and 
La Rochelle, which greatly contributed to the material 
prosperity of the infant colony. 

Some time after, he finally put into execution another 



SAMUEL BE CHAMP LA IN. 



I03 



scheme much nearer to his heart. In the spring of 16 15 
he sailed for Quebec, bringing with him three fathers 
and a lay brother of the Order of Recollets — F. Denis 
Jamay, F. Jean Dolbeau, F. Joseph Le Caron, and Brother 
Pacifique du Plessis. They landed at Tadousac, and 
immediately set about the work which had brought them 
from the genial climate of France to brave the rigors of 
Canadian winters. Two Jesuits had already made the 
great voyage, but they had remained at Port Royal, so 
that to the Recollets belongs the honor of first preaching 
the gospel to the savages in the vicinity of Quebec, at 
least since the time of Cartier. Champlain busied him- 
self preparing accommodations for them, and caused a 
chapel to be speedily erected in a quiet and retired spot. 

Father Joseph Le Caron, however, made no stay at 
Quebec, but hastened to the Great Falls, where numbers 
of savages were assembled for the fur trade. Soon after, 
the other religious followed him thither, accompanied 
by Champlain. He tells us " they were charmed with 
the vast extent of the river, dotted as it was with beau- 
tiful islands, and the fertile shores by which they passed; 
but most of all at sight of the savages, whom they found 
possessed of quick intelligence and ready perception." 

About five miles from the Falls they met Father Le 
Caron returning to Quebec for church ornaments, as he 
intended to pass the winter among the savages. Cham- 
plain endeavored to dissuade him from his purpose, 
urging upon him the terrible hardships to which he 
would be exposed, the intense severity of the climate, 
and other similar reasons. Father Le Caron replied 
" that it was necessary for him to learn the language of the 
tribes and gain an intimate knowledge of their manners 
and customs. As for the difficulties to be overcome, he 
hoped to succeed by the grace of God and the assistance 
which He would grant him in working for His service 



104 



NAMES THAT LIVE. 



and for the propagation of His gospel; that he had freely 
undertaken the enterprise and would do his utmost to 
further it; that personal discomforts or hardships were 
little to a man who had made profession of poverty, and 
whose only aim was the glory of God and salvation of 
souls." 

Champlain says that, seeing him inspired by such 
ardent charity, he made no further attempts to turn him 
from his purpose. Of this saintly missionary the emi- 
nent American historian Bancroft speaks in the follow- 
ing terms: " The unambitious Franciscan, Le Caron, 
the companion of Champlain," he says, "years before 
the Pilgrims anchored within Cape Cod, had passed 
into the hunting-grounds of the Wyandots, and, bound 
by his vows to the life of a beggar, had, on foot or 
paddling a bark canoe, gone onward and still onward, 
taking alms of the savages, till he reached^ the rivers 
of Lake Huron." In this connection the historian goes 
on to say: " It was neither commercial enterprise nor 
royal ambition which carried the power of France into 
the heart of our continent; the motive was 'religion';" 
and he adds, "The only policy which inspired the 
French conquests in America was congenial to a Church 
which cherishes every member of the human race, with- 
out regard to lineage or skin." * 

To return to our subject. On the banks of the Riviere 
des Prairies, as chroniclers tell us, on the 24th of June, 
the Feast of St. John the Baptist, the first Mass since 
the days of Jacques Cartier was sung by Father Le 
Caron. The savages were delighted, and assisted thereat 
with the greatest respect and attention. Champlain was 
present, his heart full of joy at this promising beginning 
of the great work in which he was so deeply interested. 



* Bancroft's U. S., vol. 3, p. 118. 



SAMUEL DE CHA M. PLA IN. 



IOS 



We regret that our present limits forbid us to follow 
these first missionaries in their work among the tribes, 
and can only take such occasional glimpses of them as 
the subject affords. 

The savages now declared that unless Champlain 
would assist them in their war with the Iroquois they 
would have to discontinue their visits to the trading- 
posts, as the journey was long, and beset by many perils 
from the hostility of their foes. The governor took 
council with Sieur du Ponts and one or two others, and 
it was agreed that aid must be given, in order to keep up 
friendly relations with the Indians, and prepare the way 
for their conversion to Christianity. 

Champlain now set forth for the country of the Hu- 
rons, where the allies were assembled. It lay along the 
southern shores of the Georgian Bay, west of Lake Sim- 
coe. In his "Voyages" he gives us a detailed account 
of his journey through the land of the Algonquins, along 
the shores of Lake Attigoutatan, which he called the 
Mer Douce (Gentle Sea), from the tranquillity of its 
waters. He describes Lake Nipissing, and the country in 
its vicinity, and finally speaks of his arrival at the village 
of Carhagouha, which was surrounded by a triple pali- 
sade of wood, reaching to the height of thirty-five feet. 
Here he met Father Le Caron, and on the 12th of May 
assisted at Mass. He observed on his entrance to the 
village a large wooden cross, recently erected by the 
missionary. Before proceeding to Cahiague, or St. John 
the Baptist, which was to be the meeting-place of the 
allies, Champlain visited the various villages of the 
Huron country, in all of which he was received with the 
greatest joy. He describes this territory as a vast and 
beautiful region, in about 44^- degrees of latitude. He 
declares it to be a country of abundant vegetation and 
great fertility, with immense fields of Indian corn stretch- 



io6 



NAMES THA T LIVE. 



ing away into the distance, and besides grain and vege- 
tables, a luxuriant growth of fruit and nut trees, as well as 
oaks, elms, pines, and cedars. Strawberries and raspber- 
ries he found in abundance, and of most excellent flavor. 
But he tells us that it saddened him to see so man}* poor 
creatures without the knowledge of the true God, and 
subject to no law, either divine or civil. 

Early in September the arm}* set out from Cahiague. 
Having crossed Lake Ontario, the}* hid their canoes that 
the enemy might not find them. They pushed into the 
very heart of the Iroquois country, and soon came in 
sight of the enemy's camp. A troop of five hundred 
Carantouanais warriors were to have met and combined 
with them in the assault. But as they did not arrive 
when expected, those under Champlain's command 
rushed on to the attack with the utmost fury. At night- 
fall, worn and wear}*, they desisted from a combat which 
had been utterly unsuccessful. Council was held, and it 
was at first proposed to await the coming of the Caran- 
touanais braves; but Champlain, fearing to give the Iro- 
quois time for reinforcements, planned a second attack, 
which also failed from the total want of discipline among 
the savages. In this engagement Champlain was severely 
wounded; and, moreover, when he mentioned to the allies 
his desire to proceed to Quebec, they, whether from 
selfish motives or really through necessity, declared 
that he would have to pass the winter among them, as it 
was impossible to procure a canoe. 

In December, Champlain returned to Carhagouha, 
whence, accompanied by Father Le Caron, they visited 
several of the tribes, receiving in even* instance a most 
cordial welcome. 

The governor returned to Quebec early in the spring, 
and thence took passage for France to attend to the 
affairs of the colony. He urged upon the merchants the 



SAMUEL DE CHAMPLAIN. 



107 



necessity for providing against all changes affecting the 
interests of the settlement, — as, for instance, the arrest of 
its present patron, the Prince of Conde, which had just 
taken place. For some time after his return to Quebec 
he labored steadily to accomplish this result. 

As the years went on, dissensions sprang up in the 
colonial company, — the Huguenot members being de- 
sirous to prevent the growth of Catholicity in the new 
settlement, and the Catholics being equally anxious to 
forward it. A special agent of either party was in- 
structed to keep it conversant with matters at Tadousac 
and Quebec. Hence they were anxious to remove 
Champlain from the command, and, while occupying him 
in the exploration of the country, to vest the executive 
authority in Pont-Grave. 

Champlain, being lieutenant-governor of the colony by 
appointment of the king, refused to give up his rights; 
he declared that " while he respected Pont-Grave as a 
father because of his age, and esteemed him on account 
of their long friendship, he would not, however, yield him 
any of his rights," and showed a letter from the king, 
commanding that Champlain should be furnished with 
means to conduct the affairs of the colony, and continue 
his explorations. 

Not satisfied with this, he proceeded to France and ob- 
tained an order from the Council, investing him with the 
fullest and most indisputable authority, and commanding 
the associates to desist from all further interference. 

When Champlain returned to Canada he brought with 
him over the deep and dark blue ocean his fair young 
bride. With brave heart she dared all its dangers, 
cheerfully forsaking her native France to share her hus- 
band's home in the land of the setting sun. Her 
brother, Eustace Boulle, was both astonished and de- 
lighted at his sister's courage, and received her, as 



io8 



NAMES THAT LIVE. 



might be expected, with the " heart's right hand of wel- 
come." 

Four years passed, during which the young wife strove 
hard to become inured to the dangers and toils, and 
privations of a colonial life. By every means in her 
power she sought to add to the comfort of her husband 
and brother in their rude western home. But some- 
times her strong heart failed her; and visions came of 
her native land, where the purple grape ripened under 
genial suns, the blossoms fell abundantly in the early 
spring-time, and the winter was neither long nor severe. 
The keen Canadian frosts penetrated to the marrow of 
her bones; the rude winds chilled her, and the want of 
many luxuries to which in her Parisian home she had 
been accustomed began to tell upon her. Perhaps 
more than all, her brother and husband were frequently 
away on long expeditions to the distant tribes. During 
their absence she was alone, and a prey to a thousand 
fears, not only for herself in her lonely situation, but for 
her loved ones, who were exposed to the treachery and 
cruelty of the red-skins. 

Taking all these things into consideration, Champlain 
determined to bring her back to France, and we do not 
read that she ever rejoined him in the New World. 
Years after his death she became a religious, under the 
name of Sister Helene de Saint Augustin, and ended her 
days in the gray quiet of the cloister. 

During these four years changes had been taking place 
in the affairs of the colony. Conde had resigned the 
governorship of the province, and was succeeded by the 
Duke de Montmorency, who confirmed Champlain in his 
office. When the governor returned to Quebec, he pro- 
ceeded to the little chapel of the Recollets, and assisted 
at a solemn Mass of thanksgiving for his safe arrival. 
That was a day of great joy in the settlement; flags were 



SAMUEL DE CHAMP LA IN. 



IO9 



displayed, guns fired, cannons discharged, startling the 
distant forests with their report, while the people openly 
expressed their joy and exultation, when Champlain took 
formal possession of the town in the name of his master, 
the viceroy. 

He found the habitation in a most deplorable condi- 
tion, and at once began the work of repairing it. He 
also caused the erection of a fort on the St. Lawrence for 
the greater safety of the town. 

Meanwhile, as dissensions were still rife among the 
members of the colonial company in the Old World and 
their agents in the New, the Duke de Montmorency 
founded a new association, and sent out copies of the 
commissions to Champlain, warning him to try and pre- 
serve peace in the colony till the arrival of M. de Caen 
with the official notification of the changes to be made. 
The agents of the old society determined to maintain 
their rights, and adopt what measures seemed to them 
advisable, at least till the arrival of the official docu- 
ments. Tumult and disorder prevailed in the city; all 
attempts to preserve peace proved useless; till Cham- 
plain, stationing a few men in the new fort, soon reduced 
the mutineers to order, and forced them to await in 
peace the arrival of M. de Caen. 

The people assembled, alarmed and indignant. They 
besought Champlain to proceed to France, and take 
some means of protecting the colony from measures 
which were so detrimental to its peace and prosperity. 
Champlain, unable to go himself, sent as deputy to the 
king Father George Le Baillif, who succeeded in ob- 
taining an order from the Council uniting the two com- 
panies, and putting an end to all further violence. 

When Champlain accompanied his wife to France, he 
remained there a year, consulting with the new viceroy, 
the Duke de Ventadour, who had succeeded his uncle, 



1 10 



NAMES THAT LIVE. 



De Montmorency. Champlain proposed to him that 
Jesuit missionaries should be sent to the colony to assist 
the Recollet Fathers in their arduous labors. The 
duke ardently embraced the project, being heartily in- 
terested in the evangelization of the natives. 

On Champlain's return to Quebec he occupied himself 
in the building of a new habitation, continued the work 
upon the fort, and constructed a road from the new fort 
to the fortress of St. Louis. Near the site of the old 
building was placed a tablet recording the date upon 
which the new one had been begun, the name of the 
viceroy then governing the colony, and that of Cham- 
plain, the whole surmounted by the arms of the king. 

The new building was to be about eight hundred feet 
in length, with two wings sixty feet each, and with four 
towers at the four angles of the structure. It was sur- 
rounded by moats and drawbridges. As the work had 
been delayed by the fact that the workmen were fre- 
quently obliged to lay aside their tools and attend to 
the pasturage of their cattle, Champlain erected large 
stables at Petit-Cap, having a small dwelling adjoining 
them and broad pasture-lands stretching around them. 
By this means the cattle could be cared for by a few 
persons, and the laborers need no longer leave their 
work. 

As the new fort was too small to be used as a refuge 
for the people in the event of a surprise, Champlain had 
it torn down and rebuilt on a much larger scale. 

During the winter of 1626-7 a treaty was pending 
with the Iroquois, and Champlain had great hopes of 
effecting a reconciliation between them and their ancient 
foes. Meantime some neighboring Indians, who had 
suffered great loss from the Iroquois, prevailed upon the 
Algonquins and other of Champlain's allies to join them 
in an expedition against the Iroquois, offering them as 



SAMUEL DE CHAMP LA IN. 



1 1 1 



an inducement the most valuable presents. The allies 
accepted their proposal, and when news of it came to 
Champlain he was justly indignant, declaring that he 
had been always willing to assist them in their just quar- 
rels, but that in an unprovoked attack he would not 
do so. 

The chief admitted his fault, and by his advice Cham- 
plain sent his brother-in-law, Eustace Boulle, to Three 
Rivers to arrange, if possible, an amicable adjustment of 
the difficulties. In this he was successful, and the sav- 
ages agreed to discontinue hostilities. Meanwhile M. 
de Caen had proceeded to the Iroquois country, and re- 
turned among the allies with deputies from that people. 
The Iroquois envoys were seized and put to death, and 
Champlain expressed his indignation at the treachery of 
the allies in no measured terms. A council was held; 
the governor determined if possible to conciliate the 
Iroquois, and for this purpose sent messengers to them. 
But so infuriated were they at the murder of their depu- 
ties that they put the envoys to death without mercy. 

Meantime, two white men had been murdered at Cape 
Tourmente by a savage to whom they had refused food. 
Champlain assembled the chiefs of the Montagnais and 
demanded the surrender of the murderer. The chiefs 
expressed their regret at the occurrence, but declared 
that it would be almost impossible to discover the per- 
petrator of the deed. However, to propitiate Champlain, 
they soon after conceived the idea of offering him some 
of the daughters of the tribe to be educated in the Chris- 
tian religion. The governor had once expressed such a 
desire, and the savages now resolved to gratify it. 
Champlain graciously accepted their offer, and chose 
three of the young squaws, whom he sent to be educated 
in France. 

Just then the fort was wretchedly provisioned; food 



112 



NAMES THAT LIVE. 



and ammunition were alike exhausted, and no boat suit- 
able for the purpose could be found to bring provisions 
thither. Meantime, three Huguenot brothers, Louis, 
David, and Thomas Kertk, in the service of England, 
had vowed to destroy the French colony in Canada. 
They appeared off Cape Tourmente, and burned the fort 
newly erected at that point. Champlain fortified the 
city to the best of his ability, and made every prepara- 
tion for a vigorous defence. A sloop was sent by the 
Kertk brothers to demand the surrender of the city. 
Champlain read the document aloud to the principal 
inhabitants, and then returned the following character- 
istic answer: 

" If the English care to see us nearer, let them come 
on, and not threaten us from a distance." 

Deceived by this undaunted response, and unaware of 
the deplorable condition of the little garrison, the enemy 
retreated, burning all the vessels that lay along the coast. 

Some years previous to these events a new element 
had been introduced into the colony. We refer to the 
arrival of the Jesuits, that heroic body of men, to whose 
labors on this alien soil Catholic and Protestant histo- 
rians have alike borne ample testimony, and of whom 
Chateaubriand says, " If France so long retained her 
dominion in the New World against the united efforts of 
the Iroquois and English, she owed it entirely to the 
Jesuits." * 

We will here digress so much from the direct subject 
of our sketch as to quote some extracts from the " Rela- 
tions des Jesuites," which may be of interest to the 
reader. One of the Fathers, writing to his superior in 
France about a year after their arrival, which was in 



* Chateaubriand, Genie du Christianisme. 



SAMUEL DE CHAMPLAIN. 



113 



1625, mentions the intense cold of the climate, the neces- 
sity for travelling on show-shoes, and gives some particu- 
lars of the fertility of the soil and the products of the 
country. He also speaks of the religious belief of the 
savages, their faith in the immortality of the soul, and 
their consequent provision for it in the world to come, 
relating that having asked a savage why they loaded the 
graves of the dead with all their material goods, the 
Indian answered, 

" Because our brother will need them in the land of 
shadows, whither he has gone." 

The missionary assured him that such was not the 
case, and as a proof pointed out the grave of a warrior 
who had been dead some time, and whose possessions 
were still undisturbed upon his grave. The savage re- 
plied that the soul of those things had rejoined the soul 
of their owner in the shadowy land. He says that the 
Indians called the sun Jesus; hence, when they heard the 
whites at prayer they supposed that they were worship- 
ping the sun. This planet, they told him, had a passage 
made through the earth, and at evening went in at one 
end to come out next morning at the other. 

The Jesuit goes on to say that the whites held their 
lives on very uncertain tenure among these savages, for 
not only would they kill a white man who offended them 
in the slightest degree, but also, if they dreamt of one at 
night, would kill the first they met in the morning, being 
most superstitious on the subject of dreams. In several 
parts of his letter he mentions the invariable support 
lent by Champlain to the missionaries, and his constant 
and unvarying kindness to them. 

In these early memoirs we find it related that a Huron 
being asked if his nation would receive some Jesuits into 
their country, answered that they would most willingly 
receive them if the Black-Robes would be content with 



U4 



NAMES THAT LIVE, 



a wigwam like theirs, adding that they could not give 
them a lodge like that of the Recollets in Quebec. 

One of the most distinguished missionaries, Father 
Lalemant, who afterwards died amid excruciating tor- 
ments at the stake, writes, "Our only hope is that our 
unworthiness may not prove a bar to the operation of 
divine grace among the natives, and that the weakness 
of our frail human will may not be of prejudice to the 
poor savages." He also announces their intention of 
placing the new chapel, then in process of erection, under 
the invocation of " Our Lady of the Angels." 

Another of the Fathers describes the appearance of 
enormous glaciers during the month of May; he says 
" they shone in the sun like crystal mountain-tops or the 
spires of churches." He mentions saying Mass on the 
Feast of the Holy Trinity at Gaspe — the first that had 
been said in that part of the country. He observes a 
singular coincidence in the Gospel of the day, which con- 
tained the words: 

" I give to you all power in heaven and on earth. Go ye, 
therefore, teaching all nations, baptizing them in the name 
of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost." 

He adds that the savages soon learned to confide in 
them with childish trustfulness, and relates the following 
instance. They came to the hut of the missionaries and 
asked for the captain — a word they had learned from the 
whites; the Superior came out, and they told him that 
they were about departing for the hunting-grounds, and 
wished to leave their treasures with him, promising to 
return in the moon of the falling leaves to reclaim them. 
The missionary consented, and they brought their valu- 
ables thither with the greatest care, depositing them in 
the wigwam, and expressing a hope that no thieves 
would find them. " Yet their treasures," says the writer, 
" mainly consisted of pieces of broken glass and china." 



SAMUEL DE CHA MP LA IN. 



"5 



To return to Quebec, which had been lately saved from 
falling into the hands of the English by the courage and 
resolution of Champlain. The scarcity of provisions not 
only continued, but grew daily more alarming, and a 
vessel sent out by the company to the relief of the col- 
ony unhappily met with the English fleet, and being 
taken at a disadvantage, was utterly defeated. The 
Recollet and Jesuit Fathers raised as much grain as 
possible around their little dwellings, but this was but a 
drop in the bucket. A certain amount of fish and game 
were procured from the savages, and Champlain mean- 
while devised a scheme which afforded temporary relief. 
As peas were raised in abundance, the governor had 
them dried and ground, two large fiat stones serving as 
a mortar. Finding the plan successful, he had a mill 
erected by which the peas could be crushed in greater 
quantities. During this life and death struggle for the 
necessaries of life, envoys were sent from the Abenakis 
demanding aid against the Iroquois. This was impos- 
sible under the circumstances, but, anxious, to keep up 
friendly relations with them, the governor sent Eustace 
Boulle to assure them that he would help them to the 
utmost of his ability when times were more favorable, 
and meantime asking a supply of food. Boulle met 
M. de Caen's vessel bringing reinforcements to the col- 
ony, and as he was returning to Quebec was taken pris- 
oner by the English. 

The savages had meantime given Champlain some 
uneasiness; since the arrest of one of their number on 
suspicion of murder they kept upon the reserve, and as 
much as possible aloof from the whites. Hence the gov- 
ernor had no surety as to their peaceful intentions. 

Such was the condition of affairs when the English, 
gaining information of the state of Quebec, again ap- 
peared before its walls. A sloop was sent, bearing a 



n6 



NAMES THAT LIVE. 



white flag at the masthead. The inhabitants of the town 
were abroad, as the weather was favorable, occupied in 
the fisheries or at other outdoor labor. Champlain re- 
plied to the English flag of truce by hoisting a similar 
one upon the fort. An English gentleman then came 
ashore, offering favorable terms from Louis Kertk in the 
event of capitulation. The governor, knowing resistance 
to be impossible, acceded, obtaining the most honorable 
conditions. 

On the 19th of July, 1629, the town was ceded to the 
English, and shortly after Champlain, and all those in 
any way connected with the government, returned to 
France. Champlain himself tells us that though treated 
by the conquerors with the utmost courtesy, he never- 
theless " thought every hour a day till he left the city, 
once the English ensign had been hoisted on the fort." 

On the 24th of July he set sail in the vessel commanded 
by Thomas Kertk. Sorrowfully he left the little colony, 
in which he had spent the promise of his youth and the 
vigor of his manhood; he was cheered by one hope alone 
— that of a speedy return. One circumstance that espe- 
cially grieved him was the fear that the residence of the 
English among the savages would have a most perni- 
cious result as regarded their spiritual interests. 

Apropos of this we may relate the following anecdote, 
which probably occurred years later, when the Puritan 
Fathers held dominion in royal Massachusetts. A gov- 
ernor of Boston, being desirous of conciliating the sav- 
ages, once offered to send them a minister. The spokes- 
man of the tribe at once replied as follows: 

" Your words amaze me; you saw me before my 
French brothers, yet you and your ministers spoke not 
to me of prayer or of the Great Spirit. You saw my 
furs and my beaver skins, and you thought of them 
alone. If I brought many I was your friend. That was 



SAMUEL DE CHA MP LA IN. 



117 



all. One day I lost my way, and sailed in my birch 
canoe to an Algonquin village, where the French Black- 
Robe preached of the Great Spirit. I was loaded with 
skins. The Black-Robe disdained to look at them. He 
spoke to me at once of the Great Spirit, of Paradise, of 
hell, and of prayer, which is the only way to heaven. 
My heart was full of joy; I stayed long to hear the words 
of truth. His prayer pleased me. I asked him to teach 
me and to baptize me. Then I went back to my own 
country and told what had happened to me. They saw 
I was happy, and wished to be happy too. They set out 
to the distant tribes to find the Black-Robe. When you 
saw me if you had told me of prayer I would have learned 
your prayer, for I knew not what was good. But I have 
learned the prayer of my French brothers; I love it and 
will follow it to the end. The Red Man does not want 
your money and your minister. He will speak to you 
no more." 

This gives us an insight into the cause of Champlain's 
anxiety for the spiritual welfare of the tribes, and his 
ardent desire to return to his life-work on the shores of 
the blue St. Lawrence. The day after the departure of 
the vessel, one was sighted in the distance, which they 
readily recognized as that of De Caen. His craft had 
also recognized theirs as an English vessel, and was evi- 
dently seeking to avoid it. But the English captain 
signalled it to approach. A slight skirmish took place, 
and as the French seemed to be gaining an advantage, 
Thomas Kertk, the commander, went down into the 
hatchways to speak to Champlain. He told him that 
Emeric de Caen had demanded to see him, and said, 

" If the vessel is taken you will die. Tell them to sur- 
render, and I will treat them as well as I have treated 
you; otherwise, it will be certain ruin for them if the two 
sloops arrive before the terms of capitulation are signed," 



n8 



NAMES THA T LIVE. 



To which Champlain replied as follows: 

" It is easy for you to kill me under present circum- 
stances. It will be a most dishonorable proceeding on 
your part; for by doing so you break the promise made 
me by your brothers. I am not in command of that ves- 
sel; and if I were, I would not hinder those on board 
from doing their duty." 

The French vessel, however, surrendered, and pro- 
ceeded to Tadousac, sailing thenee for Europe early in 
September. When Kertk's vessel landed at Plymouth 
news reached it that a treaty of peace had been signed 
between England and France, and that before the sur- 
render of Quebec. Champlain proceeded to London to 
apprise the French ambassador there of what had oc- 
curred, and to urge upon him the advancement of their 
interest in the New World. In 1632 the matter was de- 
cided by the treaty of Saint Germain-en-Laye, and the 
fort and city of Quebec were to be restored to their 
original owners. Champlain occupied himself during 
his stay in France in preparing a new edition of his voy- 
ages for publication. This work contains an account of 
his journeys through various parts of the American con- 
tinent, as also the most valuable and accurate descrip- 
tion of the places and people in those primitive times. 

M. de Caen was appointed governor of Quebec for 
one year, with the revenues thereunto appertaining, to 
reimburse him for losses sustained at the taking of the 
city by the English. M. Plessis du Bouchart was ap- 
pointed his lieutenant. In 1633 Champlain was rein- 
stated in the command by the new colonial company 
established by Cardinal Richelieu, and known as the 
" Cents Associes." 

Champlain sailed from Dieppe on the 23d of March 
with three vessels — the " Saint Pierre," " Saint Jean," 
and the " Don de Dieu." Two hundred persons, includ- 



SAMUEL DE CHA MP LA IN. 



II 9 



ing some Fathers of the Society of Jesus, accompanied 
him. Joyously he steered his course towards the "land 
of his heart's hopes." Twice during the voyage they 
were driven ashore by what sailors call a " northwester;" 
once at Cape Breton and afterwards at St. Bonaventure. 

Precisely two months afterwards, on the 23d of May, 
he landed. The people greeted him with acclamation, 
and hailed him as the saviour of their country. Flags 
streamed forth, cannons boomed, bells rang out, and the 
heart of the colony seemed stirred with a common en- 
thusiasm. The governor had returned to the land of his 
adoption, never to leave it again. 

Soon after the Algonquins came down from Three 
Rivers to treat with him. Eighteen canoes full landed 
at Quebec. As the English fleet was still cruising about 
the coast, Champlain made every effort to dissuade the 
savages from treating with those on board, justly repre- 
senting that the French were likely to be the permanent 
masters of the soil, whereas the English were merely 
birds of passage. The Indian spokesman declared that 
they would acknowledge no other allies but the French, 

The governor's next undertaking was the establishing 
of a trading-post on the island of Richelieu, making it 
more convenient for the Indians of the north, as goods 
could be easily shipped thither from Quebec. 

As Champlain labored untiringly for the material 
prosperity of the colony, so, too, do we find him watch- 
ing over its spiritual interests. He devoted himself to the 
advancement of the Jesuits and the success of their mis- 
sions, which were already yielding an abundant harvest 
of souls. He sent out missionaries to the Hurons, and 
persuaded many of the red men to hear the words of 
truth. Soon after his return to the colony he erected a 
chapel under the invocation of Notre Dame de Recouv- 
rance, in gratitude for the recovery of Quebec from the 



120 



NAMES THAT LIVE. 



English, and. in accomplishment of a vow. Over the altar 
he placed a picture representing Our Lady saving a ves- 
sel from shipwreck. 

In this same year, 1633, we find an account in the 
" Relation des Jesuites" of Champlain going to visit the 
Fathers at their humble abode, hearing Mass in their 
little chapel, and dining with them. It was his first visit 
after his voyage, and the Fathers were still in a great 
state of rejoicing at the return of Father Brebceuf, who 
had come over on the vessel with the governor. A merry 
little party, therefore, assembled at the board, and as the 
Father tells us, the savages had fortunately supplied 
them with bear's flesh, which constituted the meal. As 
they sat at table Champlain began to laugh, and made 
the remark that "if people in France saw them eating 
bear's flesh they would turn away in disgust, whereas it 
was most savory and delicate." 

After dinner the Father took some of the savage chil- 
dren and went down to pay his respects to Captain de 
Nesle, who commanded the vessel in which Champlain 
had come over. The little savages sang the Our Father 
in their native tongue for the captain's entertainment, 
and then stood by in eager expectation that he would 
give them some toutonch-pimi, as in the Indian dialect 
they called crackers and cheese. When they were de- 
parting the captain had a salute fired in their honor, and 
at the booming of the cannon the savages were both 
amazed and terrified. 

Champlain was busying himself at this time in the 
establishment of a mission at Three Rivers, which was 
to be under the direction of the Jesuits, as the Recollet 
Fathers had not been permitted to return since the Eng- 
lish occupation of Quebec, though they petitioned to be 
allowed the privilege. The government had concluded 
that the Jesuits were better suited to the exigencies of 



SAMUEL DE CHA MP LA IN. 



121 



these distant settlements. So, as we have said, they 
were to be the sole laborers in the new field of operation. 
As soon as suitable preparation was made, they pro- 
ceeded to Three Rivers, where the results of the new 
mission were truly marvellous. The missionaries ex- 
tended their sphere of action to the most distant tribes, 
and did inconceivable good amongst them; but as for 
themselves, a Protestant writer, the Rev. Wm. I. Kip, 
observes, "few of them died the common death of all 
men." For testimony of their labors let us quote one 
of our most distinguished authors. " All persons," says 
Washington Irving, " who are in the least familiar with 
the early history of the West, know with what pure and 
untiring zeal the Catholic missionaries pursued the work 
of conversion among the savages. Before a Virginian 
had crossed the Blue Ridge, and while Connecticut was 
still the extreme frontier of New England, more than 
one man whose youth had been passed among the warm 
valleys of Languedoc had explored the wilds and caused 
the hymn of Catholic praise to rise therefrom. The 
Catholic priest went before the soldier and the trader; 
from lake to lake, from river to river, the Jesuits pressed 
on unresting, and, with a power which no other Chris- 
tians have displayed, won the savages to their faith." * 

"Their lives," says another Protestant writer before 
quoted, " were made up of fearless devotedness and 
heroic self-sacrifice. The sons of Loyola never re- 
treated, and the mission they founded in a tribe ended 
only with the extinction of the tribe itself." 

" Ibo et non redibo," says Father Jogues when he de- 
parted on his last mission to the Mohawks. "If the 
flesh trembled, the spirit never seemed to falter," says 
Father Le Petit, speaking of some of the martyrs. Each 



* Knickerbocker, June, 1838. 



122 



NAMES THA T LIVE. 



one indeed felt that he was " baptized unto death," and 
that his own blood poured out in the mighty forests of 
the West would bring down greater blessings on those 
for whom he died than he could win by the labors of a 
life." * 

If in these last remarks upon the Jesuits we have again 
seemed to digress from the direct purpose of our sketch, 
it has been with a view to show how greatly Champlain 
advanced the religious interests of the colony by the 
introduction of these zealous missionaries. His aim 
and theirs were one — to gain souls to the knowledge of 
God; for, as he himself tells us, he "should esteem it a 
great sin on his part to neglect the religious instruction 
of the savages." 

But when the harvest was most abundant this noble 
worker in an alien land was called away, after having 
given such proofs of a lively faith and ardent charity as 
to render any comments on his life and character unnec- 
essary. Twenty times he had crossed the ocean for the 
interests of the colony. Many long cold nights, when 
the snow was deepest on the ground, he had slept out of 
doors, with his cloak wrapped around him, during his 
exploring expeditions to the far northwest. In the time 
of famine he had shown a manly endurance and a heroic 
self-sacrifice remarkable in the history of the colony. In 
matters of government he had displayed a wisdom, pru- 
dence, and moderation which gained the love of his peo- 
ple and the unwavering attachment of the savages. For 
to them the Great Chief was once and forever a friend. 
He was habitually self-controlled, energetic, and decisive. 
His great penetration served him well on many occa- 
sions, and his frankness and simplicity of manner gained 
him universal good-will. 



Marshall's Christian Missions, vol. ii. 



SAMUEL DE CHA MP LA IN. 



123 



But the wheat was ripe, and the sickle of the reaper 
was laid thereunto. It was in December he was called 
away, when the western forests stood bare and bleak on 
plain and hillside, lighting only into faint reflections of 
their autumnal beauty when the day was waning and 
the sun gleamed upon them in deep crimson and gold. 
The snow was lying softly upon the little city he had 
founded, the people in their primitive dwellings were 
making good-cheer for the birthday of the Son of God, 
when the mariner set out upon his last voyage: the 
ocean — eternity, the pilot — death. It was announced to 
the colonists that the governor had surrendered the keys 
of the fortress to a mightier than he, and the Christian 
had gone to his eternal home in the city of Christ. 

Deep and loud were the lamentations, vehement the 
people's grief, and grand his obsequies. But in the 
spring-time the bright stream he had loved flowed again 
on its way with vernal rejoicing, the blossoming trees 
he had cultivated loaded the air with perfume, the grain 
he had sown put forth its tender sprouts, and the people 
for whom he had toiled were occupied with the thought 
of his successor. 

Once more the savages came down the river when 
spring had made it navigable, and asked for the chief, 
their friend, and were told that he would trade with 
them no more. Solemnly they pointed upwards, saying 
he had gone to the land of the Great Spirit, beyond the 
red home of the setting sun. 

The colony prospered and flourished since that time, 
while in Quebec and throughout Canada no name, after 
that of Jacques Cartier, has been more deservedly re- 
vered than that of the Sieur de Champlain. In the 
foundation of Quebec, in his struggle for her civil and 
religious interests, and in the prominent part he took in 
the colonization of Canada, he is unquestionably entitled 



124 



NAMES THA T LIVE. 



to the deepest respect, the most tender gratitude, of 
Canadians. But we have considered him not only as a 
benefactor of the human race by his important discov- 
eries and indefatigable explorations, but as a Christian 
and a Catholic. His labors for the conversion of the 
savages, and his introduction of missionaries amongst 
the North American Indians, would alone entitle him to 
the gratitude of posterity. Of his character as a man 
we have said enough, and shown him in his unimpeach- 
able integrity and manly straightforwardness. And so 
we leave him. 

Soft be his slumbers, tranquil his rest, and lasting his 
memory in the hearts of the people. Honor to the 
noble dead ! Peace to the hero's ashes ! 



" Another scaffold looms up through the night, 
Another Irish Martyr's hour draws near, 
The cruel crowd are gatheri7ig for the sight, 

The July day dawns innocently clear; 
There is no hue of blood along the sky, 
Where the meek martyr waits for light to die." 

McGee. 



Archbishop of Armagh and Primate of Ireland. 

" Which is the culprit in the car of death? 
He of the open brow and folded hands! 
The turbid crowd court every easy breath, 
There is no need on him of gyves or bands, 
Pale, with long bonds and vigils, yet benign, 
He bears upon his breast salvation's sign." * 




MONGST all the countries of Western Europe, 
there is none, perhaps, so deserving of atten- 
tion, especially from Catholics, nor so full of 
romantic interest, as Ireland, from the period of St. 
Patrick's landing upon her shores down to the present 
day. Ireland has been described, with great justice, as 
resembling from afar a country of ruins; and how sadly 
beautiful is the charm these very ruins lend her! The 
gray and crumbling walls, thickly covered with lichen 
and wild ivy, give her scenes a picturesque character, 
and allow free scope to the imagination, which is con- 
stantly at work in a tour throughout this beautiful island, 
resting in its green light and coolness like a gem upon 
the surface of the water. 

At every step upon our passage we are confronted by 
the solid masonry and architectural skill displayed in 



* McGee's ' ' Execution of Archbishop Plunkett. 



128 NAMES THAT LIVE. 

those early and mysterious fabrications, the ancient 
round towers, which have stood so firm and immovable 
while thousands and thousands of years have hastened 
on in their swift passage to eternity. If we be of a po- 
etic turn of mind we are at once whirled backwards into 
a very labyrinth of legends and traditions and early 
speculations. We almost seem to see the gorgeously 
clad priests of the Sun, in the primal days of Irish his- 
tory, mounting at dawn to watch for the appearance of 
the god whom they adored as he slowly emerged from 
the East, and with lingering reluctance showed himself 
to his worshippers. 

Then the priests announced the glad tidings, and the 
people with one accord lit their adoring fires, or bent to 
the ground, in profound veneration before their deity. 

Or we, perchance, stop before a cairn or cromlech, 
and again we are back in the night of time, where the 
moon shines down on the wondrous beauty of this west- 
ern isle; and forth from the forests, or across the dusky 
plains, come a band of Druids, with hoary beards, silvery 
locks, and flowing garments tossing in the wind. They 
play upon their Druid harps, they chant their incanta- 
tions, and they crimson the altar of sacrifice with the 
blood of a living holocaust, while the moon shows, with 
pallid distinctness, their weird and solemn faces as they 
mingle in their awful dance of death. 

We begin to perceive other ruins too, which tell us 
other tales. Ruined abbeys stand solemn and desolate, 
the prey of Time and his parasites, — the mournful ivy 
and the encroaching moss, — feeding upon their decay. 
Portions of the walls still remain, with mullioned win- 
dows, bearing remnants of delicate tracery carved by 
hands long mouldered into dust. The groined arches of 
the roof have entirely disappeared, so time works its will 
upon the unprotected walls, within which of yore the 



OLIVER PLUNKETT. 



129 



priests of the Most High offered up their living holo- 
caust of a god. 

- We pause in wonder, and we ask: Did the monks 
voluntarily desert this land of their heart's hope, and 
leave their stately abbeys to decay ? or did the faithless 
natives of the soil dismantle thus their houses of prayer, 
drive forth the patient monks who toiled among them, 
contemn their ancient faith, and the worship of their 
fathers' god ? We hear hasty and indignant denials ; 
the sons of a neighboring island, who in the first centu- 
ries came thither in uncouth garb, to seek for light and 
learning from the Irish monks, early famed for their 
erudition, returned after the lapse of ages, conquered 
the country, and trampled under foot the religion which 
their neighbors had received at Tara and ever since pre- 
served inviolate. 

But the natives, undaunted by their presence, prac- 
tised their faith, even when a terrible persecution broke 
out under Henry the Eighth and was continued in the 
reign of his daughter Elizabeth. After a brief inter- 
regnum, during which Queen Mary, miscalled " Bloody 
Mary," occupied the English throne, James I. again made 
arbitrary laws against his Catholic subjects, and weighed 
very heavily upon the people of Ireland. The same per- 
secution continued, though with diminished violence, 
during the reign of the hapless Charles the First, and 
was renewed with redoubled fury under the iron-hearted 
usurper of the crown, — the pretended liberator, the real 
tyrant; the destroyer of monarchical government, the 
founder of a despotism; the denouncer of Catholic greed 
for gain, the avaricious despoiler of churches and con- 
vents; the great soldier, the canting psalm-singer; the 
far-seeing statesman, the superstitious trembler at shad- 
ows; the protector of the liberties of the people, the des- 
pot who drove out the parliament sword in hand: in a 



130 



NAMES THAT LIVE 



word, that greatest of contradictions, Oliver Cromwell, 
Protector of the Commonwealth of England, consistent 
from beginning to end of his career in one thing only — 
cruelty. 

He it was who> following out the course traced by 
Henry the Eighth and his daughter Elizabeth, un- 
roofed the abbeys, left their walls to crumble, and gave 
the finest portions of the country to a godless, Puritan 
soldiery, the scum of the goodly land of England. He 
drove out an O'Neil or an O'Donnell, a Tyrone or Tyr- 
connell, and gave their estates to a pot-house keeper or 
a tinker who had donned the sad-colored garments, 
lengthened his visage, and killed the allotted number of 
Papists or Cavaliers. The new proprietors took their 
places where the old lords had ruled right royally and 
gently over their Irish vassals, who remained devotedly 
attached to them. Nor did they ever waver in their loy- 
alty; the new masters, not being "to the manor born," 
lacked all the qualities which had endeared the old chief- 
tains to their people, and above all were without the 
crowning title to their obedience, hereditary right. 
Scarcely were they established in their new domains 
when they set about utilizing the old abbeys, which had 
been founded by the former owners, or in most cases 
permitted the church and cloisters to fall into disuse and 
crumble into decay. 

So the glorious race of monks, the guardians of the 
world's civilization, pondered no more over their dusky 
tomes, rich with the lore of departed generations, nor 
inscribed therein the chronicles of the times. Their 
noble mission, too, of imparting the treasures of knowl- 
edge to the children of the people, noble or peasant, 
rich or poor, was ended; and the places where they had 
sanctified themselves, by lives of wonderful austerity, 
angelic purity, and divine charity knew them no more. 



OLIVER PLUNKETT. 



131 



The smoke of their evening sacrifice ascended not now 
to the throne of the Almighty ; their matin hymns 
no longer startled the stilly whiteness of the dawn; their 
prayers, rising once like aromatic incense to the Most 
High, for their country, their people, and even their very 
enemies, were hushed. Nor was it alone their matin 
and their vesper songs which had once arisen before 
God; rather it was a lengthened chain of harmony, the 
music of self-sacrifice and charity towards their fellow- 
men, which all day long went up from the cloisters, se- 
curing for themselves a blessed immortality and for 
their brethren the fertilizing shower of God's grace. 

Driven forth from their silent life of prayer, they still 
continued to travel from village to village, from town to 
town, from city to city, preaching the Gospel and en- 
deavoring to keep alive the love and sufferings of their 
Divine Master in the hearts of the people, giving them 
bright glimpses of the eternal land whither they were 
hastening. They constantly preached forgiveness of 
enemies, the duty of praying for them, and warned the 
people against harboring resentment towards any one 
whomsoever; while they exhorted them to keep enkindled 
in their breasts the divine spark of faith. A price was 
upon the head of every monk, and yet they hid in hovels 
or caverns, or burrowed themselves hiding-places in the 
bowels of the earth, and continued their apostolic mis- 
sion. A long course of rapine and bloodshed and op- 
pression began to tell upon the people, and if their 
priests had not then used every effort to sustain and ele- 
vate them they might have fallen into hopeless degra- 
dation. 

It would be fruitless in such a sketch as this to at- 
tempt a picture of the condition of the country at that 
dark hour of despair. No Catholic was permitted to 
hold even the most trifling office; the possessors of new 



132 



NAMES THA T LIVE. 



estates were warned not to employ Catholic laborers; it 
was a crime for priests or bishops to celebrate their func- 
tions; and the few remaining native nobles, who had 
the power, were constantly endeavoring to conceal the 
monks, seculars and Jesuits. It became felony, or at 
the very least prczmunire^ which means the exercise of 
foreign jurisdiction, to say Mass, administer the Sacra- 
ments, or attend the dying. The Remonstrance Act, giv- 
ing absolute authority to the king, soon followed upon 
the restoration of Charles II., and every priest and 
bishop was required to sign it. Many of its articles, 
however, bordered on heresy, and made it impossible for 
them to do so. New persecution was the result. 

When things were in this condition, Oliver, a scion of 
the noble house of Plunkett, a near relative of the Earls 
of Fingall and the Barons of South and Dunsany, who 
was then quite young, showed a strong inclination for 
the priesthood, and was placed under the care of his re- 
lative. Dr. Patrick Plunkett, Abbot of St. Mary's, Dublin, 
w T here he remained till he was sixteen. 

The college of the Jesuit Fathers in Rome was then 
attracting the attention of all Europe by the fame of its 
learning and piety. Thither young Plunkett now re- 
solved to repair, that he might make his studies for the 
priesthood in such an abode of knowledge and sanctity. 
Father Scarampo, an Oratorian, came to Ireland on a 
mission from the Pope, and the Irish youth returned 
with him to Rome. During his residence there his pre- 
ceptors predicted great things of him, from his ardent 
love of study, his earnest application, his noble intellect 
and brilliant talents; with which he combined many re- 
markable virtues. When he was finally ordained priest, 
it was impossible for him to return to his country, 
whence fearful tidings reached Rome, and he took up 
his abode with the Jesuit Fathers of San Girolamo della 



OLIVER PLUNKETT. 



133 



Carita. He seems to have been deeply imbued with a 
love and veneration for that illustrious company founded 
by the knightly Loyola, and who have been since their 
foundation the Thundering Legion of the Church. 

As we have said, fresh tales of horror came each day 
from Ireland; rivalling the atrocities of the Roman Em- 
perors who, in the early centuries of the Church, rode in 
their golden chariots over the hearts and lives and re- 
ligion of their Christian subjects. So now, in those 
western islands, a sovereign who had been maintained, 
as it were, on the charity of Catholic France, and sup- 
ported to the death by Catholic Ireland, was riding in 
the chariot of his love of ease over the dearest liberties 
of his Catholic subjects, particularly in Ireland. 

Priests were imprisoned, exiled, forced to seek refuge 
under the earth or in the vaults of cemeteries, and to 
celebrate their sublime and ancient religious rites in 
caves and shanties, anywhere but in the broad and open 
light of day. Only six bishops remained of the Irish 
Episcopate, and of these three were exiled, and two at 
least of the other three were enfeebled by old age or 
bedridden.* 

At this crisis the celebrated Edmund O'Reilly, Arch- 
bishop of Armagh and Primate of all Ireland, who had 
been for years an exile from his native country, under 
sentence of perpetual banishment, died in France. The 
Sovereign Pontiff, Clement IX., aware of the troublous 
state of Ireland and the perilous condition of the Irish 
Church, began to look about for some one worthy to be 
his successor, at the same time possessed of the heroic 
courage, zeal, and judgment required in that dangerous 
position. The Sacred Congregation, too, interested 
themselves in the matter, and various persons were 



* Hist, of Remonstrance, or Crolly's Life of Plunkett. 



NAMES THAT LIVE. 



named as being worthy of the dignity. At last the 
Pope, who had followed the young Irishman's career 
with considerable interest, exclaimed: 

" Why are we discussing uncertainties, when certainty 
is before our eyes ? Behold in the city of Rome itself 
Oliver Plunkett, a man of long experience, tried virtue, 
and consummate learning ! Him, by my apostolic' 
authority, I appoint Archbishop of Armagh and Primate 
of Ireland." 

Thus it was that the pupil of the Jesuits was ap- 
pointed to the highest position in the Irish Church. 
For twelve years he had been Professor of Theology in 
the celebrated College of the Propaganda, where he 
would probably have preferred to remain but that he 
knew his country needed her sons sorely; the Master of 
the vineyard required many laborers; and in tears and 
humility of spirit he prepared for the onerous ministry, 
which he at once, and unhesitatingly, accepted. It was 
not, however, deemed prudent to have him consecrated 
at Rome, hence his consecration took place in Brussels, 
where he was vested with the fullest authority for the 
administration of spiritual affairs in Ireland. 

Once he was Archbishop, he never for a moment enter- 
tained the thought of remaining abroad, though he knew 
that his return to Ireland was attended with the greatest 
danger. He set sail for his native land after years of 
absence, and as the vessel heaved and plunged upon the 
stormy waters of the Channel old longings began to 
crowd upon him: green spots which in boyhood he had 
loved; peaceful loughs, wherein he had seen the beauti- 
ful sky of Erin mirrored, haunted his waking thoughts 
or came to him in dreams; memories of the old Abbey 
Church, where he had first worshipped God, and in the 
surrounding alleys of which he had played, or of the 
Soggarth Aroon, whose kindly smile and encouraging 



OLIVER PLUNKETT. 



135 



word had been among his childhood's pleasures. All 
these things came back to him, and he yearned more 
and more for a glimpse of the green island of his birth, 
where "the round towers of other days" were reflected 
in sparkling waters. 

He knew, indeed, that his native land was desolate; 
her people scattered; her homes broken up; her fires 
cold upon the hospitable hearths; her priests hunted like 
wild beasts; her bishops a target for the rage of the 
enemy; yet he longed to be there, to see her once more, 
to share her misfortunes, to labor among her people, and 
to find a grave somewhere on her kindred soil. 

We do not find the exact date of his arrival in Ireland 
mentioned by any of his biographers; but this may be 
readily accounted for by the fact that he was obliged to 
enter the country, as it were, by stealth, and afterwards 
remain concealed for a considerable time. During the 
period of his concealment Lord-Lieutenant Robarts 
declared to Lord Conway that he had information from 
the king that two persons, one of whom was Oliver 
Plunkett, had arrived from Rome and were lurking in 
the country to do mischief. Lord Conway, acting on his 
orders, wrote to his brother-in-law, Sir George Rawdon, 
telling him that "it would be an acceptable service if he 
could dexterously seek out the Primate and his com- 
panion, and apprehend them." 

However, this Lord Robarts, who is described as hav- 
ing been " a stanch Presbyterian, sour and cynical, just 
in his administration, but vicious under the appearance of 
virtue; and stiff, obstinate, proud, jealous, and in every 
way intractable," and who particularly distinguished 
himself by his hatred of Catholicity, was succeeded, 
soon after the Primate's arrival, by Lord Berkeley, under 
whose government the Catholics enjoyed considerable 
liberty, and were enabled to regain a slight foothold in 



136 



NAMES THAT LIVE. 



the country. By this short respite Dr. Plunkett profited 
to advance the spiritual interests of his flock. 

During this first year of his Primacy, he held two or- 
dinations, in which several young men were enrolled in 
the service of the Church, where they were sadly needed; 
for death and persecution and transportation had 
thinned the ranks of the clergy, and that fearless and 
patient body of men were reduced to a very small num- 
ber. Under Lord Berkeley, Catholics were permitted to 
inhabit and trade in the towns, to be elected members 
of corporate bodies, and to hold commissions as justices 
of the peace. The venerable Archbishop of Dublin, the 
illustrious Peter Talbot, now publicly celebrated High 
Mass, at which the Puritans were exceeding wroth. En- 
couraged by the leniency of Berkeley's administration, 
the brave lords and gentlemen who had fought valiantly 
for the restoration of the king, and as their reward 
had seen Cromwellian adventurers confirmed, by a strange 
inconsistency on the part of Charles, in the lands and 
estates confiscated from the Catholic gentry by Crom- 
well, now ventured to lay a petition before his Majesty, 
begging him to take cognizance of their grievances. 
For this purpose they sent Colonel Richard Talbot, 
brother of the Archbishop, to London, to negotiate the 
matter, which called forth fierce opposition from the 
English Puritans, who then controlled the Parliament. 

But in spite of the protestations of Ormonde, who was 
a bitter enemy of the Catholic cause, the king appointed 
a commissioner to inquire into their petition. The com- 
missioner was Sir Heinige Finch, who, partly influenced 
by Ormonde and partly by his own intolerant spirit, 
returned an unfavorable report. The matter was dis- 
missed, resulting chiefly in the recall of Berkeley, who 
was considered too lenient in his views, and the appoint- 
ment of Essex. The latter was not by any means of a 



OLIVER PLUNKETT. 



137 



cruel or sanguinary disposition; but he was entirely con- 
trolled by the English Puritans, whom he feared above all 
things to offend. 

The Parliament now met and induced the king to re- 
scind any acts of indulgence towards Papists or other 
dissenters; every person who did not take the oath of 
the king's supremacy was declared incapable of holding 
any civil or military office; it was decreed that all Cath- 
olic priests should be banished, convents and monasteries 
dissolved; and the arrest of Colonel Talbot was de- 
manded because he had dared to act as agent for the 
Catholic party. Orders were given to the Lord-Lieuten- 
ant to persecute Papists and encourage planters and 
Protestants. 

Meanwhile let us take a glance at the private life 
of the great Archbishop. He dwelt in a small thatched 
house of humble exterior, which, as he mentions himself 
on his trial, was scarcely seven feet high. In his little 
library he studied, as was his delight, the sacred writ- 
ings, the works of the early Fathers, and dwelt lovingly 
upon the history of his country. Visions rose before 
him, overpassing the bounds of time and space: Tara, 
the mighty palace of the ancient kings, where king and 
warrior, and chief and brehon listened entranced to the 
voice of the minstrel, singing in rude verse the lofty 
deeds of the remoter heroes, and rewarded with cup or 
chain of gold; where the priests of the Sun beheld from 
the green heights of Tara the first rising of their god, 
and bowed down in adoration. The Primate, even dur- 
ing the troublous times we have described, wrote his 
" Song of Tara," which has not been entirely preserved, 
but in which we can imagine he expresses his thoughts on 
the poetic traditions that hang like a golden haze above 
the verdant Tara. That hill of predilection, where the 
apostle of Erin, coming from the shores of ancient Gaul, 



138 



NAMES THAT LIVE. 



spake in the Gaelic tongue, and gave to the Irish kings 
and chieftains there assembled the same faith which the 
chosen twelve preached of old in Galilee. With one 
accord the nation laid its superstitions at the feet of 
Patrick, quenched their sacrificial fires, and turned from 
the pale sun they had adored to the eternal sun of jus- 
tice, which was henceforth to light their green shores 
and illumine their dusky hills. 

Every venerable tradition, every glimpse of light 
thrown on the dimly lettered pages of the past, all the 
ancient glory, every prophetic word or sign, seeming to 
point to new greatness hidden in the future, was seized 
upon by the Primate with delight, and stored deep in his 
heart's recesses. He read over and over again the " An- 
nals of the Four Masters," and felt a real affection for 
the authors, because of the patient love with which they 
had gleaned in the harvest-field of Ireland's history, and 
filled with their garnered sheafs the granary of their 
country. 

This patriotism, this love of native land, seems to have 
been a prominent feature in the character of Oliver 
Plunkett, and a sentiment which he would fain keep 
alive in the breast of every Irishman, side by side with 
their love for the ancient faith and their pride in it. 
But he desired that this patriotism should be pure and 
exalted, never separated from that religious spirit, and 
always under its control; for he knew that without it, 
patriots too often rush on to their own destruction. 

Thus we catch a glimpse of the Primate in the few 
hours of leisure or repose that occurred in his laborious 
life, which was spent in alleviating the miseries of the 
people, corporal as well as spiritual. Aided by his one 
servant, the only retinue that this good man permitted 
himself, he visited the poor, the needy, the distressed, 
and gave to them cheerfully out of his threescore pounds 



OLIVER PLUNKETT. 



1 39 



of yearly income. He made long and frequent journeys 
into various parts of the country, and on these expedi- 
tions his food was usually a piece of oaten bread. Writ- 
ing to Rome in December, 1673, he says: 

" During this past year I have confirmed forty-eight 
thousand six hundred and sixty-five souls." 

This one item gives us some idea of his herculean 
labors. He travelled, in fact, through every part of 
Ulster, preaching, instructing the people, and adminis- 
tering Sacraments. ''These Sacraments," his biographer 
tells us, "were often administered under the broad 
canopy of heaven, pastor and flock alike exposed to wind 
and rain." * 

He occupied himself in a special manner in reforming 
abuses which had crept in among the clergy. A contem- 
porary writer assures us that these evils, engendered by 
years of bloodshed and disorder, during which the dio- 
ceses were without chief pastors, touched only a very 
small portion of the priesthood. The Archbishop or- 
dained so many priests that, we are informed, the num- 
ber of the clergy was doubled between the years 1665 
and 1672, while most, if not all, of the vacant bishoprics 
were filled. He writes again to the Sacred Congrega- 
tion: 

" The past two months have been spent in a fatiguing 
and most laborious visitation of my diocese, of which I 
shall shortly give a full account to your Excellency. The 
distillation of my eyes, which was fatally increased by 
the laborious visitations in the northern districts, scarcely 
allows me to write or read letters, even as large as a 
snuff-box. Still it does not impede my tongue from 
preaching both in the English and Irish languages." 

The Prelate also labored successfully to settle certain 



Moran's Memoirs of Plunkett, p. 63. 



NAMES THAT LIVE. 



misunderstandings which had grown out of the famous 
Remonstrance Act. As far-seeing as he was wise and pru- 
dent, he was well aware that the present lull was only the 
prelude to a more violent storm, and therefore lost not a 
moment in preparing for it. He believed that in the 
critical condition of affairs, the clergy, while working 
energetically to keep alive the spirit of faith among the 
people, and incite them to the heroic fortitude which 
would enable them to work out their salvation in the 
midst of many tribulations, should at the same time en- 
deavor to hold themselves aloof from all interference in 
public or political affairs. For the regulation of matters 
appertaining to the spiritual welfare of the kingdom he 
convened a synod at Armagh in 1670, where many im- 
portant matters were discussed. 

Arthur, Lord Essex, was now. as we have said, ap- 
pointed viceroy of Ireland, and being too much under 
the control of the Puritans to show the least indulgence 
towards Catholics, did not, however, persecute them. 
We are told that he was a personal friend of the Primate, 
whose talents and prudence he held in the highest 
esteem, describing him in a letter to the Protestant 
Bishop Burnet as "a wise and sober man, fond of living 
quietly, and in due subjection to the government." 

However, his administration was short. In 1677 the 
Duke of Ormonde became lord-lieutenant, and once 
more a bloody persecution raged against Catholics. 
The English people were excited to a sort of frenzy by 
the pretended Popish plots of Tongue and Oates. These 
plots were never for an instant credited by enlightened 
or sensible people, but were frequently used by clear- 
sighted men to advance their own purposes. Amongst 
these men was the perfidious Duke of Ormonde. He 
adopted the severest measures against Catholics, affect- 
ing to believe them guilty, while in his private corre- 



OLIVER PLUNKETT. 



141 



spondence he treated these charges with contempt and 
utter disbelief. 

He caused Talbot, Archbishop of Dublin, to be ar- 
rested on a charge of complicity in the plots, one of 
which was supposed to be an attempt on Ormonde's life; 
yet he privately declared that " Talbot was in a dying 
way, and the Irish in no condition to raise an insurrec- 
tion." Talbot had only lately ventured back from exile- 
and on his arrest was indeed, as Ormonde expressed it, 
" in a dying way ;" he lingered two years in prison, suf- 
fering excruciating agony, and then found his release 
where Ormonde's tyranny could never again reach him. 

The viceroy's next step was to issue an edict by which 
he commanded all bishops and ecclesiastical dignitaries, 
holding their authority from Rome, as well as all Jesu- 
its and other priests, regular and secular, to depart from 
the kingdom before the 20th of November; and that all 
convents, seminaries, Popish schools and societies, should 
be at once suppressed. After the date mentioned it was 
declared felony for any bishop, priest, or monk to ex- 
ercise his ministry ; and a proclamation "followed by 
which a reward was offered for the discovery of every 
commissioned officer, trooper, or foot-soldier who at- 
tended Mass. 

Tho Catholic laity were also disarmed, and the jus- 
tices of the peace were commanded to make diligent 
search for arms, to seek out bishops, regular clergy, and 
their abettors, relievers, or harborers, and to labor for 
the suppression of Mass-houses and meetings for Popish 
service.* A proclamation was also issued declaring 
that no Catholic should come into the Castle of Dublin 
or any other fort or citadel without a special order from 
the government ; that fairs should only be held in cer- 



* See Carte, or Cox's- Reign of Charles II. 



142 



NAMES THAT LIVE. 



tain specified towns ; that no persons of the Romish re- 
ligion should be permitted to reside in those towns who 
had not for twelve months past resided there; and that 
all of said religion were forbidden to meet in large num- 
bers by day or night, or to bear arms. Orders were 
also sent to remove the Popish inhabitants from certain 
towns, except a few classes of persons necessary to the 
town ; these orders were obeyed, and the Catholic inhab- 
itants, who were numerous in such places, were at once 
expelled. Ormonde also declared that the kindred and 
relations of all notorious outlaws or tories then at large 
should be imprisoned and kept in close confinement till 
the arrest or death of the said tories ; that when any 
Popish priest was in a parish where murder or other 
crimes were committed he should be cast into prison, 
and if the offender were not discovered be transported 
over the seas. These intolerant measures were devised 
for the protection of Protestants alarmed by the Popish 
plots in England, a country where the Catholics were in 
the alarming ascendency of one to every hundred Prot- 
estants. 

The persecution now began to rage with the greatest 
fury against bishops and priests. Yet if it had not 
been for their wise counsels and their preaching of the 
maxims of the Gospel, the poor people, driven to bay, 
would have turned upon their ungrateful and cowardly 
oppressors. From the bishops and priests, in their dun- 
geon, or exile, or even on the scaffold, came the golden 
lessons of endurance and forgiveness, which the poor 
oppressed people treasured in their hearts and practised 
in their daily lives. With truly apostolic zeal did the great 
Archbishop labor among them, continuing to exercise his 
ministry at the imminent peril of his life. Must a soul 
go before its Creator unconsoled, unstrengthened by the 
prayers and sacraments of the Church because the law 



OLIVER PLUNKETT. 



143 



forbade it ? Over the bed of sickness and of death bent 
Oliver Plunkett, calm and unconcerned, gentle and con- 
soling, as though no statute had ever been passed which 
bade him fear for his own life and liberty. Many a pas- 
sage into eternity he smoothed; to many a broken heart he 
whispered words of peace and comfort; in many a vault 
and cave he offered Mass and preached the word of God. 
Fearless, undaunted, gentle as a lamb and bold as a lion, 
he trod the earth, beloved by his people and respected 
by his very enemies. 

What a spectacle is the one undivided Church, with its 
hosts of self-denying confessors, angelic virgins, and 
heroic martyrs, meeting in all times and places, through- 
out the world's history, with persecution and imprison- 
ment and death! Dying upon the common battle-field 
of the Church, in the service of one leader, not vainly did 
Christ promise that the gates of hell should not prevail, 
and that He should Himself be with His Church all days, 
even to the consummation of the world. 

Meanwhile Oliver Plunkett was preparing by his holi- 
ness and austerity of life for a martyr's death. But so 
exact was he in every duty, so mild, so forbearing, so 
meek, so full of sweetness and charity, so diligent a pro- 
moter of public order and virtue, so zealous and withal 
so prudent, that, although the Act of Banishment had 
been passed, even Lord Ormonde was loth to have him 
arrested, and allowed him to remain at liberty for a year 
after the proclamation of the Act. He withdrew from 
his customary abode to a smaller and more retired house 
in Castletown-Bellew, near Drogheda, but absolutely re- 
fused to leave his diocese, much less the country, though 
the storm was lowering over his devoted head. 

On the 6th of December, 1679, officers were sent to 
apprehend him. He was found, as usual, in his little re- 
treat, where he spent his leisure hours in prayer and study. 



144 



NAMES THAT LIVE. 



Learning their errand, he at once arose and advanced 
to meet his captors, addressing them with the utmost 
gentleness and courtesy. They then arrested and com- 
mitted him to Newgate prison, Dublin, on a charge of 

prmmunire. 

About this time a proclamation was issued by which 
a free pardon was offered to all criminals, no matter 
what their offences, if they would discover persons di- 
rectly or indirectly concerned in the Popish plots that 
had stricken the kingdom of Great Britain with such 
terror. Let us picture to ourselves the result of such a 
proclamation : robbers, murderers, the most infamous 
criminals were let loose upon the community, to swear 
away the lives of good and saintly men who had at 
heart the true interests of their country and the peace of 
the kingdom. 

Such witnesses, and notably two or three whom 
Archbishop Plunkett had been obliged to reprimand for 
their scandalous lives, now, incited by the double motive 
of gain and revenge, trumped up a charge of treason 
against him while he was in prison. 

At the instigation of Hetherington, as reliable histo- 
rians assure us, a certain Edmund Murphy proffered 
evidence of the Archbishop's treasonable proceedings. 
Most of the witnesses against Dr. Plunkett and other 
supposed conspirators were themselves in constant cor- 
respondence with the tories, and their active aiders and 
abettors. Murphy, being in prison for these treasona- 
ble practices, was discharged in order to become prose- 
cutor, for the king, of Oliver Plunkett, Primate of Ar- 
magh. John Moyer, who was also convicted of like 
offences, showed his good-will towards the government 
in a similar way. 

It is curious to observe the Duke of Ormonde's testi- 
mony in regard to the utter worthlessness of these 



OLIVER PLUNKETT. 



145 



witnesses. He declares it in various letters to his son, the 
Earl of Arran.* Yet such creatures as he described them 
to be were permitted to swear away one of the gentlest, 
purest, and noblest lives in the British realm. This 
nobleman also very frankly admits in one letter that 
witnesses were " being brought over from Ireland to give 
testimony in these plots of which they openly profess to 
know nothing," f and this was undoubtedly the case, the 
material for their evidence being manufactured by 
Hetherington and others, after their arrival in England. J 
It seems almost impossible to understand the perfidy and 
pusillanimity of which Lord Ormonde was guilty in tak- 
ing so active a part in a persecution which he knew to 
be both unjust and unnecessary. The illustrious Charles 
James Fox declares that " the proceedings of the Popish 
plots must always be considered as an indelible disgrace 
to the English nation, in which king, parliament, judges, 
juries, witnesses, and prosecutors have all their respec- 
tive, though certainly not equal, shares. Witnesses of 
such a character as not to deserve credit in the most 
trifling cause upon the most immaterial facts gave evi- 
dence so incredible, or, to speak more plainly, so impossi- 
ble to be true, that it ought not to have been believed if 
it had come from the mouth of Cato."§ 

These testimonies from the pen of an eminent Protes- 
tant will enable us to form some idea of the iniquitous 
proceedings by which the great and good Oliver Plun- 
kett, of " whose innocence," the same writer tells us, 
"no doubt could be entertained," was tried and con- 
demned to death, his only crime having been, as the 
attorney-general, Sir Robert Sawyer, expressed it, that 
he was " an over-zealous Papist." 



*See Carte, ii. f Carte, ii. p. 105, where the letter can be found. 
% Carte, ii, p. 517. § Fox's Historical Works. 



I46 NAMES THAT LIVE. 

Meanwhile the wretched Murphy declared to the Duke 
of Ormonde that he had information to give of the trea- 
sonable dealings of the Primate, and the matter was 
brought for examination before the Privy Council at 
Dublin, and proved to be totally false and absurd. 

Yet the good Archbishop remained in prison. We can 
picture him to ourselves within his narrow cell, still 
humbler and more dingy than the poor little library of 
his thatched house. We can see him sitting on the 
wooden bench, reading his Breviary by the dim light, or 
praying, with his soft, dark eyes looking out through 
the grated window over the fair green face and misty 
hills of the land he loved. We can almost hear him ad- 
dressing his jailer, gently and cheerfully, when he 
brought him the rude prison fare. 

Happ}* and contented was he in his little cell, where he 
served God in peace and lowliness, undisturbed by the 
great troublous world that was working out its own ends. 
Only one consideration troubled him: he could no longer 
go about among the people, preaching with fervent heart 
and ardent speech, in fulfilment of his apostolic mission. 
He could not now divide his threescore pounds a year, 
with the poor and need}* and distressed; he could ordain 
no more priests to take the place of those who had fallen 
by the wayside. 

But if he could not provide for all these wants as he 
had done, there still remained to him the sovereign 
remedy for all evils — that of prayer. Hence to prayer 
he betook himself. Readily may we suppose that often- 
times when the jailer entered and found him kneeling 
before the crucifix, with a rapt expression upon his face 
and the softened light from the grating falling like a halo 
around him, the man started back in fear, feeling that 
this indeed was a servant of God. 

Meanwhile the witnesses whose testimony against him 



OLIVER PLUNKETT. 



H7 



had been so scornfully rejected by the authorities in Ire- 
land hastened to London, where they were received with 
the greatest favor as loyal subjects — they who had been 
imprisoned for dealings with the tories, and were by pro- 
fession tories, robbers, and spies, giving information to 
both parties when successively in power. An opportunity 
for the display of their loyalty was now presented in the 
arrest of the Archbishop. He was brought to trial in 
Dublin, where no twelve men, either Protestants or 
Catholics, could be found to sit as a jury upon his case; 
so high was the character he bore as priest and citizen. 
Therefore it was necessary that the English authorities 
should provide loyal witnesses to testify to his treason- 
able practices, and that this time the trial should be in 
England. 

On the 3d of May, 1681, during the Easter term, Dr. 
Plunkett was again arraigned, but as he had not a single 
witness for his defence he petitioned that the trial 
should be postponed till Michaelmas, when he would en- 
deavor to produce the required evidence. This was 
refused, but he was allowed a period of five weeks or 
thereabouts, till Trinity term. This time he knew would 
be of no avail whatsoever, for the witnesses were in Ire- 
land, some of them a hundred miles from Dublin, and 
there were no railroads nor steamboats. The servants 
whom he sent over to Ireland, after being two days at 
sea, were obliged to cast back again and go thence to 
Holyhead, so that their passage to Dublin occupied 
thirteen or fourteen days. When they did reach their 
journey's end the authorities refused to give them the 
records of conviction showing the character of the op- 
posing witnesses without an order from England, and 
the Catholics who were to give evidence in the Primate's 
behalf were afraid to go thither without a pass. 

So on the 8th of June, 1681, the day of his trial, his 



148 



NAMES THAT LIVE. 



witnesses had only come as far as Coventry. On the 
preceding day he moved that his trial should be put off 
for twelve days more till the end of the term, that the 
witnesses might have time to appear, but this was abso- 
lutely refused, both then and on the following day when 
he again made application. Yet he declared " that the 
records, which were almost at hand, would have proved 
that some of the witnesses who appeared against him 
were indicted and found guilty of high crimes, some were 
imprisoned for robberies, and some were infamous peo- 
ple," adding " that if they only allowed him a few days 
to bring his witnesses and records he would defy earth 
and hell to convict him." He further said that "no man 
in Ireland would believe the charge against him, so ab- 
surd and impossible was it, even if he were himself to 
declare that he was guilty of it." 

It would seem from the conduct of his prosecutors, on 
this occasion, that they desired to bring a defenceless 
man alone and unsupported to the bar of justice. They 
would seem to have been afraid lest his innocence, of 
which they were themselves persuaded, would be made 
clear and manifest, as it had already been in Dublin, 
where he was known. 

However that be, on the 8th of June, 1681, Oliver 
Plunkett was summoned before the Supreme Court of 
Justice, to answer to a charge of high treason, whereas 
he had been arrested only for praemunire. The court 
was crowded, and the excitement was intense when the 
usher ordered the prisoner to be introduced. There was 
a moment's pause: a man prematurely old and worn 
entered, attended only by his jailers. He was simply 
attired in his cassock, wearing the pastoral cross con- 
spicuously upon his breast. So unruffled was the majesty 
of his mien, so calm the dignity with whicn he confront- 
ed them, that in spite of their gorgeous apparel his 



OLIVER PLUNKETT. 



149 



prosecutors sank into insignificance. Such a scene was 
frequently witnessed of old in the Roman forum. The 
implacable judges, the defenceless victims whose white 
hairs might have won compassion, and the lictors with 
their axes whetted for the sacrifice. 

It may be well to remark that, had Dr. Plunkett fore- 
seen his trial before leaving Ireland, he would have made 
arrangements for the production of witnesses; but he was 
under the impression that having been tried in Dublin 
he could not be tried in England for the same offence. 

He was brought into court amid a profound silence, 
sworn, and pleaded not guilty. After which, the procla- 
mation being read by the clerk of the crown, the Primate 
proceeded to explain the unavoidable delay in the arrival 
of his witnesses, and begged the court to believe he had 
made every effort to produce them, and that he had been 
under the impression he could not be tried in England, 
concluding with the touching words: 

" I am come here where no jury knows me nor the 
quality of my adversaries. If I had been in Ireland I 
would have put myself upon my trial, without any wit- 
nesses, before any Protestant jury that knew them and 
me. When the orders went over that I should be tried 
in Ireland, and that no Roman Catholic should be on the 
jury, so it was in both the grand and other jury; yet 
there when I came to my trial, after I was arraigned, no 
one appeared. This is manifest upon the record and can 
be proved." 

To which the Chief Justice having answered that he 
had not been prosecuted there for this offence, the Arch- 
bishop replied: u But, my lord, here is no jury that knows 
me or the quality of my adversaries, for they are not a 
jury of the neighborhood that knows them. . . . Though 
I cannot harbor, nor will not, nor ought not, the least 
conceit of hard measure or injustice, yet since I have not 



NAMES THAT LIVE. 



full time to bring my records and witnesses all together, 
I cannot make my defence. . . . Therefore I beseech 
your lordship that I may have time to bring my records 
and witnesses, and then I will defy all that is upon the 
earth and under the earth to say anything against me." 

To which the Chief Justice answered: 

" Look you, Mr. Plunkett: it is in vain for you to talk 
and make this discourse here now; you know when a 
man is indicted for felony or treason it is not usual to 
give such time. . . . We can't furnish you with witnesses; 
you must look to get witnesses for yourself." 

And more to the same effect. The Archbishop again 
asked for time, if only till the end of the term, saying: 

" I am then in imminent danger of my life if I cannot 
get ten days to have my witnesses over. I desire I may 
have but to the 21st of this month, and then if they do 
not come you may go on." 

However, his further pleading was in vain, and he was 
asked if he took exception to the jury, to which he re- 
plied by asking if it was this same jury who condemned 
the five Jesuits. To which the Chief Justice said, " What 
if they have? that is no exception;" whereupon they were 
sworn in, and the clerk of the crown commanded the 
prisoner to hold up his hand, and the jury to hearken to 
his charge. He proceeded to declare, in the usual 
formula, that the Archbishop was " a traitor against the 
sovereign Charles II.; that he was seduced by the insti- 
gation of the devil, not having in his heart the fear of 
God, from the cordial love and obedience he owed the 
king; that he was contriving with all his might against 
the peace and tranquillity of the kingdom of Ireland and 
that of England, stirring up war and rebellion against the 
king, and working in parts beyond the seas to subvert 
the power of and depose the aforesaid sovereign and put 
him to death; as also to bring destruction on the true 
worship of God in the kingdom of Ireland, by law estab- 



OLIVER PLUNKETT. 



lished, and there had used the superstition of the Romish 
Church. 

"And to fulfil and accomplish his said wicked treasons, 
Oliver Plunkett did, in parts beyond the seas, maliciously, 
devilishly, and traitorously assemble with divers other 
traitors unknown to bring destruction upon the crown 
and government of the kingdom, and compass the death 
of the king, and did for these purposes unlawfully, 
maliciously, and devilishly collect, pay, and expend divers 
sums of money." 

This was the sum and substance of his indictment, to 
which he pleaded "not guilty." According to the cruel 
custom of those times, no lawyer was permitted to con- 
duct the defence of a criminal, and as Oliver Plunkett 
had not a single witness to give testimony, he stood alone 
against three judges who scarcely allowed him to speak 
without interruption, six of the most eminent lawyers in 
England, and a host of perjured witnesses; and that in a 
strange country where his spotless character was un- 
known. One of the lawyers, Mr. Heath, then commented 
on the indictment, and called upon the judge and jury to 
find the prisoner guilty if the points aforesaid could be 
proved. Sergeant Maynard spoke somewhat to the same 
effect, and the Attorney-General began his speech by 
making the following observation: that " the character 
this gentleman bears as Primate, under a foreign and 
usurped jurisdiction, will be a great inducement to you 
to give credit to that evidence we shall produce before 
you;" and declared that "the title of Primate had been 
given him merely as a reward for his offer to raise 60,000 
men in Ireland for the Pope's service, and to subvert the 
government." * 

*The. judges were Sir Francis Pemberton, Lord Chief Justice, 
Justice Dolbein, and Justice Jones; the lawyers, the Attorney-Gen- 
eral (Sir Robert Sawyer), the Solicitor-General, Sergeants Jeffries 
and Maynard, Sir F. Withins, and Mr. Heath. 



152 



NAMES THAT LIVE. 



The various witnesses were now called, all of them be- 
ing men of notoriously infamous and depraved character, 
and those among them who were ecclesiastics a stain 
upon the name they bore of priests or friars, and actuat- 
ed chiefly by revenge against the Primate, who had been 
forced to suspend and excommunicate them for their 
evil lives and the scandal they occasioned. They all 
made the same statements, their lesson having been 
readily learned: that he had collected money for treason- 
able purposes, was in collusion with the king of France, 
who was to send men to Carlingford for the conquest of 
England and establishment of the Roman Catholic re- 
ligion; that it was well understood in Ireland (the wit- 
ness being evidently in the confidence of the dignitaries 
of the Church) that Dr. Plunkett had been appointed by 
the Pope in preference to other candidates because he 
had expressed himself more capable of managing affairs 
with the king of France; that he had sent letters by 
Neal O'Neal to Baldeschi, the Pope's Secretary, and to 
the Bishop of Aix and Principe Colonna, that they might 
solicit help from foreign powers for France; that he had 
exacted money from the clergy of Ireland for the pur- 
pose of introducing the French; that he had commis- 
sioned Captain O'Neal to demand aid from the French 
king; that he had written to Cardinal de Bouillon, exhort- 
ing him to impress on the Catholic powers that they 
should not war with each other, but unite in defence of 
their persecuted brethren in Ireland; that he had com- 
missioned one of the witnesses, Hugh Duffy, to raise 
men in the provinces; that he had fixed upon Carling- 
ford as the best place of invasion for the French; that 
he had assisted at certain meetings in the county of 
Meath, and exhorted those present to take up arms." 

When Edward Murphy was produced he contradicted 
all his previous calumnies against the Primate, and even 



OLIVER PLUNKETT. 



153 



endeavored to throw discredit on the witnesses who pre- 
ceded him, and finally made an attempt to rush out of 
court. However, he was seized and brought back, but 
refused to corroborate what he had before deposed, in 
consequence of which he was committed to Newgate. 
This Murphy was one of the unfortunate men whom the 
Archbishop had censured and excommunicated, and was 
in fact, like the other witnesses, a base apostate, of noto- 
riously bad character. He seems, however, to have had 
some scruple at last, as we find by his singular conduct 
on the trial.* 

When the witnesses were all examined a stranger 
handed in a paper containing the names of David Fitz- 
gerald, Eustace Commines, and Paul Gorman, and the 
Chief Justice at once demanded whence it came. 

" I was told," said the stranger, " that these were good 
witnesses for Dr. Plunkett, and I gave him the names." 

"Where are they?" asked the Chief Justice. 

"They are hard by," was the answer. 

Then the Attorney-General asked for Eustace Corn- 
mines, who, it seems, had given evidence against the 
prisoner. Paul Gorman was brought in, and the Primate 
himself asked him " if Mr. Mover did allure and entice 
him to swear against his cause," but Gorman, becoming 
frightened, denied this. He, however, declared that 
Moyer had told him " if there was law or justice in Ire- 
land, he would show Mr. Plunkett his share of it," and 
added that, as he had a soul to save, he never heard of 
any misdemeanor on the part of the prisoner. The 
Chief Justice then asked if Mr. Plunkett sent for him, 
and the prisoner at once replied: 

*The witnesses against Dr. Plunkett were Florence MacMoyer, 
John Moyer, Hugh Duffy, Henry O'Neal, Neal O'Neal, Hanlon. 
Edmund Murphy, John McClare, and Owen Murphy, one or two of 
whom were Franciscan friars who had been expelled the Order. 



154 



NAMES THA T LIVE. 



" I never sent for him." 

Gorman then said to the Archbishop, in allusion to his 
previous declaration of having come from Ireland to 
reveal plots: 

"It was not against you; they knew I had nothing 
against you. I thought you did more good in Ireland 
than hurt; so I declared." 

The Chief Justice asked the prisoner if he had any 
more witnesses, and Dr. Plunkett answered: 

" I have no more witnesses, my lord." 

The Chief Justice then made an address to the jury, 
reminding them that the evidence was strong against 
the prisoner, and that he had nothing to say in his be- 
half, except that his witnesses had not yet come over. 

"I can say nothing to it," said Plunkett, "but give my 
own protestation that there is not one word of this said 
against me true, but all plain romance. I never had any 
communication with any French minister, cardinal or 
other." 

The jury withdrew for a quarter of an hour, and re- 
turning gave the verdict: 

" Oliver Plunkett, hold up thy hand. How say you, 
is he guilty of high treason, whereof he stands indicted 
or not guilty ?" 

The foreman answered: 

"Guilty !" 

And the Archbishop said: 

" Deo Gratias !" (Thanks be to God !) 

The prisoner was removed from court, and on Wed- 
nesday, the 15th of June, 1681, was brought back again 
to hear his sentence. The clerk asked him what he had 
to say for himself why sentence of death should not be 
pronounced. 

The Archbishop in a long address, which in our present 
space cannot be given, pointed out the utter absurdity 



OLIVER PL UN ICE TT. 



155 



and improbability of many of the charges against him, 
and the falsehood of all of them, alluding to the fact of 
having been tried for treason when he was arrested for 
Preemunire. 

The Chief Justice in reply made a rude and most 
brutal address to the prisoner, in which he declared his 
religion to be " ten times worse than all the heathenish 
superstitions." Such gross discourtesy and want of 
humanity is almost without a parallel. 

Plunkett responded that the witnesses against him 
were apostates and renegades whom he had endeavored 
to correct for seven years, and who therefore bore him 
malice; he also made the following declaration, which he 
afterwards repeated in his dying attestation: 

" If I were a man that had no care of my conscience 
in this matter, and did not think of God Almighty, or 
conscience, or heaven, or hell, I might have saved my 
life, for I was offered it by divers people here, so I would 
but confess my own guilt and accuse others. But, my 
lord, I had rather die ten thousand deaths than wrong- 
fully accuse anybody, or take away one farthing of any 
man's goods, one day of his liberty, or one minute of his 
life." 

The Chief Justice said he was sorry to see him persist 
in the principles of that religion, and the Primate again 
replied: 

"They are those principles that even Almighty God 
cannot dispense withal." 

After which the Chief Justice spoke as follows: 
" Well, however, the judgment which we must give you 
is that which the law says and speaks. And therefore 
you must go from hence to the place whence you came, 
that is, to Newgate, and thence you shall be drawn, 
through the city of London to Tyburn; there you shall 
be hanged by the neck, but cut down before you are 



i 5 6 



NAMES THAT LIVE. 



dead, your bowels shall be taken out and burnt before 
your face, your head shall be cut off, and your body 
divided into four quarters, to be disposed of as his 
Majesty pleases; and I pray God to have mercy upon 
your soul." 

The Archbishop asked leave for a servant and a few- 
friends to visit him, which was granted. But the Chief 
Justice recommended him to receive a visit from some 
minister, to which the prisoner replied: 

" My lord, if you please, there are some in prison that 
never were indicted on account of any crime, and they 
will do my business very well; for they will do it accord- 
ing to the rites of our own Church, which is the ancient 
usage; they cannot do it better, and I would not alter it 
now." 

He formally declared that he was innocent of all trea- 
sons laid to his charge, and referred them for his charac- 
ter to the Lord Chancellor of Ireland,* Lord Berkeley, 
Lord Essex, and Lord Ormonde. He was led away, and 
the court adjourned. It is unnecessary to make any 
comments on these most unjust and iniquitous proceed- 
ings. We shall, however, quote from the Protestant 
Bishop Burnet, who says: 

" Plunkett, the Popish Primate of Armagh, was at this 
time brought to his trial. Some bad Irish priests and 
others of that nation, hearing that England was at that 
time disposed to hearken to good swearers, thought them- 
selves well qualified for the office ; so they came over to 
swear. . . . The witnesses were brutal and profligate 
men; yet the Earl of Shaftesbury cherished them much, 
and what they said was believed by the Parliament; so 
that they have come over in whole companies. Lord 
Essex told me that this Plunkett was a wise and sober 

* The Lord Chancellor was Rev. Michael Boyle, Protestant Primate 
of Ireland. 



OLIVER PL UNKETT. 



157 



man, who was for living quietly and in due submission 
to the government, without engaging into intrigues of 
state. Some of these witnesses had been censured by 
him for their evil behavior; and they drew others to 
swear as they had directed. They had appeared the 
winter before upon a bill offered to the grand jury; 
but, as the foreman of the jury, who was a zealous Pro- 
testant, told me, they contradicted one another so evi- 
dently that they would not find the bill. But now they 
laid the story better together, and Plunkett was con- 
demned." 

In the Chronicle of Sir Richard Baker we find the fol- 
lowing: "He [Dr. Plunkett] was a worthy and good 
man, who, notwithstanding his high title, was in a very 
mean state of life, having nothing to subsist on but the 
contributions of a few poor clergy of his religion in the 
province of Ulster, who, having little themselves, could 
not spare much to him. In these low circumstances he 
lived, though meanly, quietly and contentedly, meddling 
with nothing but the concerns of his function, and dis- 
suading all about him from entering into any turbulent 
or factious intrigues." 

He goes on to speak of the witnesses, whom he says 
were " profligate wretches, some of whom Plunkett had 
censured for their wickedness; so, partly out of revenge 
and partly to keep themselves in business, they charged 
a plot upon that innocent, quiet man, so that he was sent 
for over and brought to trial."* Both this author and 
another Protestant historian, Eachard, mention that 
Essex applied to the king to obtain the pardon of Plun- 
kett. Says Eachard: 

" The Earl of Essex was himself so sensible of the poor 
man's hardship that he generously applied to the king 

* Chronicle of Sir Richard Baker, continued to the death of King 
George I. 



153 



NAMES THAT LIVE. 



for pardon, and told his Majesty the witnesses must 
needs be perjured; for these things sworn against him 
could not possibly be true."* And the Chronicle of Sir 
Richard Baker gives the king's reply: " Why did you 
not declare this, then, at the trial ? It would have done 
him some good then; but I dare pardon nobody;" and 
ended by saying, " His blood be upon your head, and not 
upon mine." f 

On the day following that on which he had received 
his sentence Dr. Plunkett wrote thus to Father Corker, 
in the most beautiful and touching language: 

" Dear Sir : I am obliged to you for the favour and 
charity of the 20th, and for all your former benevolence; 
and whereas I cannot in this country remunerate you, 
with God's grace I hope to be grateful in that kingdom 
which is properly our country. And truly God gave me, 
though unworthy of it, that grace to have, a courage 
fearless of death. \ I have many sins to answer for be- 
fore the Supreme Judge of the high bench, where no 
false witnesses can have audience. But as for the bench 
yesterday, I am not guilty of any crime there objected to 
me; I would I could be so clear at the bench of the All- 
powerful, lit, ut sit, there is one comfort, that He can- 
not be deceived, because He is omniscious and knows all 
secrets, even of hearts; and cannot deceive, because all 
goodness; so that I may be sure of a fair trial, and will 
get time sufficient to call witnesses, nay, the Judge will 
bring them in a moment if there will be need of any. 
You and your comrade's prayers will be powerful advo- 
cates at that bench. Here none are admitted for 
" Your affectionate friend, 

" Oliver Plunkett." 



* Eachard, Hist. England, vol. iii. p. 631. f Ibid. 

% " Fortem animum mortis terrore carentem." 



OLIVER PLUNKETT. 



159 



From this time forward the Primate seems to have 
been most tranquil and happy. All the cares and trials 
he had known in the exercise of his arduous ministry 
were soon to be laid down in one great burden at the 
foot of the scaffold. At its summit he was to receive a 
martyr's crown and a swift and unutterably blissful 
entrance into that glorious immortality of which no 
human soul, howsoever exalted, can conceive even the 
slightest portion. Eye hath not seen, ear hath not heard, 
nor hath it entered into the heart of man to conceive the 
ineffable glory which awaited the martyr beyond the 
tomb. Well done, thou good and faithful servant; enter 
into the joy of the Lord; possess the kingdom prepared 
for you from the foundation of the world. 

In the time of waiting he knelt all day long before the 
Image of the Crucified wrapt in holy contemplation, sup- 
plicating Jesus, the Lamb of Calvary, to strengthen him 
for the sacrifice. His figure was worn and emaciated 
with suffering and austerity; upon his face shone glimpses 
from the eternal light towards which he was - hastening. 
Father Corker, who was his confessor and attended him 
in his last moments, thus speaks of his life in prison: 

" He was kept, as you know, closely confined, secluded 
from all conversation save that of his keepers, until his 
arraignment; therefore I can only inform you of what I 
learned, as it were by chance, from the mouths of the 
said keepers: that he fasted three or four days a week 
with nothing but bread; that he appeared always modest- 
ly cheerful, without any anguish or concern at his danger 
or strait confinement; that by his sweet and pious de- 
meanor he attracted an esteem and reverence from those 
few that came near him. But his trial being ended, and 
he condemned, his man had leave to wait on him alone 
or in his chamber, by whose means we had intercourse 
by letters to each other. And now it was I clearly per- 



i6o 



NAMES THAT LIVE. 



ceived in him the Spirit of God and those lovely fruits 
of the Holy Ghost, charity, joy, peace, etc., transparent 
in his soul. And not only I, but many other Catholics 
who came to receive his benediction and were eye-wit- 
nesses (a favor not denied to us), there appeared in his 
words, actions, and countenance something so divinely 
elevated, such a composed mixture of cheerfulness, con- 
stancy, love, sweetness, and candor, as manifestly denoted 
the divine goodness had made him fit for a victim and 
destined him for heaven. None saw or came near him 
but received new comfort, new fervor, new desires to 
please, serve, and suffer for Christ Jesus, by his very 
presence. Concerning the manner and state of his prayer, 
he seemed most devoted to Catholic sentences taken out 
of Scripture, the divine office and missal, which he made 
me procure for him three months before he died: upon 
these sentences he let his soul dilate in lave, following 
herein the sweet impulse and dictates of the Holy Ghost, 
and reading his prayers, writ rather in his heart than in 
his book, according to that ' unctio ejus docet vos de 
omnibus' (i St John ii. 27). 

" For this reason, I suppose, it was that when with 
great humility he sent me his last speech to correct, he 
also writ me word that he would not at the place of exe- 
cution make use of any set form of prayer except the 
Our Father, Hail Mary, Creed, the psalm Misei-ere, and 
' Into thy hands, O Lord, I commend my spirit,' etc., 
and for the rest he would breathe forth his soul in such 
prayers and ejaculations as God Almighty should then 
inspire him withal. He continually endeavored to im- 
prove and advance himself in the purity of divine love, 
and by consequence also in contrition for his sins past, 
of his deficiency in both which this humble soul com- 
plained to me as the only thing that troubled him. 

" This love had extinguished in him all fear of death. 



OLIVER PLUNKETT. 



161 



The very night before he died, being now as it were at 
heart's ease, he went to bed at eleven o'clock, and slept 
quietly and soundly till four in the morning, at which 
time his man, who lay in the room with him, awakened 
him; so little concern had he upon his spirit, or rather 
so much had the loveliness of the end beautified the hor- 
ror of the passage to it. After he certainly knew God 
Almightly had chosen him to the crown and dignity of 
martyrdom, he continually studied how to divest himself 
of himself and become more and more an entire, pleasing, 
and perfect holocaust; to which end, as he gave up his 
soul with all its faculties to the conduct of God, so, for 
God's sake, he resigned the care and disposal of his body 
to unworthy me, etc. 

"But I neither can nor dare undertake to describe 
unto you the signal virtues of this blessed martyr. 
There appeared in him something beyond expression — 
something more than human; the most savage and hard- 
hearted people were mollified and attendered at his 
sight; many Protestants, in my hearing, wished their 
souls in the same state with his. All believed him inno- 
cent; and he made Catholics, even the most timorous, in 
love with death." * 

In a letter written about this time to Father Corker he 
expressed his joy at the prospect of being put to death 
for the faith, "since," he says, "Ireland, so fertile of 
saints, has but few martyrs." 

But his last night upon earth arrived, and, as the keeper, 
Richardson, tells us, "he retired as usual and slept 
soundly." He seemed, in fact, full of joy, anticipating on 
the morrow a happy release from all that had weighed 
him down since he returned from his studies in Rome. 

"When I came to him this morning," says Richard- 



* See both these letters in Challoner's Lives. 



1 62 



NAMES THAT LIVE. 



son, " he was newly awake, having slept all night with- 
out any disturbance; when I told him he was to pre- 
pare for his execution, he received the message with 
all quietness of mind, and went to the sledge as uncon- 
cerned as if he had been going to a wedding." * 

This, then, was his awakening for the last time upon 
earth. Calmly and tranquilly he rose, his face more 
peaceful and serene than on the morning when, by the 
grace of the Holy Ghost, he received the seal of the 
episcopacy. The Pope had given him an onerous charge, 
which he was now about to lay down, nobly, grandly, 
heroically, upon the scaffold at Tyburn. Father Corker 
relates that " as he passed out of the prison-yard to exe- 
cution he turned him about to our chamber windows, 
and with a pleasant aspect and elevated hands gave us 
his benediction." 

An immense multitude had assembled to witness the 
last act of his truly apostolic life. Blue and cloudless 
was the sky, bright the golden sun, that shone with equal 
glory upon the hideous gibbet. It was the morning of 
the ist Jul}*, 1681, a day never to be forgotten by those 
who witnessed the execution of that lonely, defenceless 
man. Slowly and with undisturbed majesty of aspect 
he mounted the scaffold, and stood in presence of the 
gaping multitude, who were crowded close together in 
their desire to see and hear him. An awe fell upon them, 
something of the hush of fear that crept upon the cen- 
turion on Calvary when the darkness came down and 
he cried, " Indeed, this was a just man !" It was not the 
sunlight alone which shone upon the Primate's face, but 
a calm yet glorious light, seeming to proceed from within, 
illumining his emaciated features, and lending dignity 



* Memoirs and Reflections of Sir Richard Bulstrode upon the Reign 
and Government of Kings Charles I. and II. 



OLIVER PL UN ICE TT. 



163 



to his wasted frame. He still wore his cassock, and the 
pastoral cross. He looked for a moment afar off, as if 
he were seeking to penetrate the distance that separated 
him from the green hills and bright streams and golden 
sunlight of Ireland, praying, as he would thenceforth 
pray at the throne of God, that the ancient faith of their 
brave forefathers might forever be preserved among the 
people, however fierce the storm of persecution. He 
looked upon the multitude at the foot of the scaffold, and 
the overmastering joy and gladness upon his face told of 
the longing by which he had been consumed to be with 
Christ. After a moment's scrutiny of their upturned 
faces he spoke as follows: 

" I have some few days past abided my trial at the 
King's Bench, and now very soon I must hold up my 
hand at the King of kings' bench, and appear before a 
Judge who cannot be deceived by false witnesses nor 
corrupt allegations, for He knoweth the secrets of hearts, 
neither can He deceive any, or give an unjust sentence, 
or be misled by respect of persons; He being all good- 
ness, and a most just Judge, will infallibly decree an 
eternal reward for all good works, and condign punish- 
ment for the smallest transgressions against His com- 
mandments. Which being a most certain and undoubted 
truth, it would be a wicked act and contrary to my per- 
petual welfare that I should now, by declaring anything 
contrary to truth, commit a detestable sin, for which, 
within a very short time, I must receive sentence of ever- 
lasting damnation; after which there is no reprieve nor 
hope of pardon. I will, therefore, confess the truth 
without any equivocation, and make use of the words 
according to their accustomed signification; assuring 
you, moreover, that I am of that certain persuasion that 
no power, not only upon earth, but also in heaven, can 
dispense me or give me leave to make a false pro- 



164 



NAMES THAT LIVE. 



testation; and I protest upon the word of a dying man, 
and as I hope for salvation at the hands of the Supreme 
Judge, I will declare the naked truth with all candor and 
sincerity; and that my affairs may be better known to 
all the world. 

" It is to be observed that I have been accused in 
Ireland of treason and pramunire, and that there I was 
arraigned and brought to my trial; but the prosecutors 
(men of flagitious and infamous lives), perceiving that I 
had records and witnesses who would evidently convict 
them and clearly show my innocence and their wicked- 
ness, voluntarily absented themselves, and came to this 
city to procure that I should be brought hither to my 
trial (where the crimes objected were not committed), 
where the jury did not know me or the qualities of my 
accusers, and were not informed of several other circum- 
stances conducing to a fair trial. 

" Here, after six months' close imprisonment or there- 
abouts, I was brought to the bar the 3d of May, and ar- 
raigned for a crime for which I was before arraigned in 
Ireland — a strange resolution; a rare fact, of which you 
will hardly find a precedent these five hundred years past. 
But whereas my witnesses and records were in Ireland, 
the lord chief justice gave me five weeks' time to get 
them brought hither; but by reason of the uncertainty of 
the seas, of wind and weather, and of the difficulty of 
getting copies of records, and bringing man)- witnesses 
from several counties in Ireland, and for many other 
impediments (of which affidavit was made), I could not 
at the end of five weeks get the records and witnesses 
brought hither. I therefore begged for twelve days 
more, that I might be in readiness for my trial, which 
my lord chief justice denied; and so I was brought to 
my trial, and exposed, as it were with my hands tied, 
to those merciless perjurers who did aim at my life by 
accusing me of these following points." 



OLIVER PL UNKE TT. 



He then proceeded to answer each of the charges in 
detail, after which he continued as follows: 

"And though I be not guilty of the crimes of which I 
am accused, yet I believe none ever came to this place 
who is in such a condition as I am; for if I should even 
acknowledge (which in conscience I cannot do, because I 
should belie myself) the chief crimes laid to my charge, 
no wise man that knows Ireland would believe me. If 
I should confess that I was able to raise 70,000 men in 
the districts of which I had care, to wit, in Ulster, nay, 
even in all Ireland, and to have levied and exacted moneys 
from the Roman Catholic clergy for their maintenance, 
and to have proposed Carlingford for the French's 
landing, all would but laugh at me, it being well known 
that all the revenues of Ireland, both spiritual and tem- 
poral, possessed by his Majesty's subjects are scarce able 
to raise and maintain an army of 70,000 men. If I will 
deny all those crimes (as I did and do), yet it may be 
that some who are not acquainted with the affairs of 
Ireland will not believe that my denial is grounded upon 
truth, though I assert it with my last breath. 

" I dare mention further, and affirm, that if these points 
of 70,000 men, etc., had been sworn before any Protes- 
tant jury in Ireland, and had been even acknowledged by 
me at the bar, they would not believe me, no more than 
if it had been deposed and confessed, by me that I had 
flown in the air from Dublin to Holyhead. You see, 
therefore, what condition I am in, and you have heard 
what protestations I have made of my innocency, and I 
hope you will believe the words of a dying man. 

" And that you may be the more inclined to give me 
credit, I assure you that a great peer* sent me notice 
'that he would save my life if I would accuse others;' 
but I answered that I never knew of any conspirators in 

* Probably Shaftesbury. 



NAMES THAT LIVE. 



Ireland but such, as I said before, as were publicly 
known outlaws, and that to save my life I would not 
falsely accuse any nor prejudice my own soul. To 
take away any man's life or goods wrongfully, ill be- 
cometh any Christian, especially a man of my calling, 
being a clergyman of the Catholic Church and also 
an unworthy prelate, as long as there was any conniv- 
ance or toleration; and I by preaching, and teaching 
and statutes, have endeavored to bring the clergy of 
which I had a care to a due comportment, according to 
their calling; and though thereby I did but my duty, 
yet some who would not amend had a prejudice for me, 
and especially my accusers, to whom I did endeavor to do 
good. I mean the clergymen; as for the laymen who ap- 
peared against me Florence MacMoyer, the two O'Neals, 
and Hanlon, I was never acquainted with them. But you 
see how I am requited, and how by false oaths they 
brought me to this untimely death; which wicked act, 
being a defect of persons, ought not to reflect upon the 
Order of St. Francis or upon the Roman Catholic clergy; 
it being well known that there was a Judas among the 
Twelve Apostles, and a wicked man called Nicholas 
among the Seven Deacons; and even as one of the said 
deacons, to wit, holy Stephen, did pray for those who 
stoned him to death, so do I for those who with perjuries 
spill my innocent blood, saying as St. Stephen did, ' O 
Lord, lay not this sin to them.' 

" I do heartily forgive them, and also the judges who, 
by denying me sufficient time to bring my records and 
witnesses from Ireland, did expose my life to evident 
danger. I do also forgive all those who had a hand in 
bringing me from Ireland to be tried here, where it was 
morally impossible for me to have a fair trial. I do 
finally forgive all who did concur, directly or indirectly, 
to take away my life; and \ ask . forgiveness of all those 



OLIVER PLUNKETT. 



whom I have ever offended by thought, word, or deed. I 
beseech the All-powerful that His Divine Majesty grant 
our king, queen, the Duke of York, and all the royal 
family health, long life, and all prosperity in this world, 
and in the next everlasting felicity. 

" Now that I have shown sufficiently, as I think, how 
innocent I am of any plot or conspiracy, I would I were 
able with the like truth to clear myself of high crimes 
committed against the Divine Majesty's commandments 
(often transgressed by me), for which I am sorry with all 
my hejart; and if I should or could live a thousand years, 
I have a firm resolution and a strong purpose by your 
grace, O my God, never to offend you; and I beseech 
your Divine Majesty, by the merits of Christ, and by 
the intercession of His blessed Mother and all the holy 
angels and saints, to forgive me my sins and to grant 
my soul eternal rest!" 

While he read this speech many of the listeners were 
affected even to tears, and the deepest emotion was man- 
ifested, while no man made the least sound which might 
interrupt him. Then he concluded: 

" To the final satisfaction of all persons that have the 
charity to believe the words of a dying man, I again de- 
clare before God, as I hope for salvation, what is con- 
tained in this paper is the plain and naked truth, without 
any equivocation, mental reservation, or secret evasion 
whatever; taking the words in their usual sense and 
meaning, as Protestants do when they discourse with all 
candor and sincerity. To all which I have here sub- 
scribed my hand, 

"Oliver Plunkett." 
Then he turned away, saying the psalm Miserere, 
"Farce anima" "Into Thy hands, O Lord," etc., and 
other ejaculations. The attention of the spectators was 
now fixed up6n him in breathless silence; they seemed 



NAMES THAT LIVE. 



as if spell-bound, so intense and painful was their inter- 
est, so heartfelt their emotion. But the Primate had no 
further concern with them, with Ireland, with the world; 
for the last time he had looked upon the earth and sky; 
for the last time he had addressed the people, not those 
whom he had loved and amongst whom he had la- 
bored: for them it only remained to hear of his death 
and weep. A thrill went through the people as he gave 
a preconcerted signal to a disguised priest who was near 
at hand, and meekly bowing his head, received absolu- 
tion. Some there were who understood the mystic sign 
of pardon, others understood it not; but it seemed to all 
that the heaven whither he was going had already 
transfigured him with its light. Surely the golden gates 
were ajar, and a ray of the glory had fallen upon him. An 
expression of celestial beatitude was upon his face, and 
the people seemed to feel the presence of the angel who 
held the crown above the martyr's head. But a mo- 
ment and heaven would be his; the Adorable Trinity 
would receive him with love; the Man-God offer him to 
the Eternal Father as a most precious fruit of His Pas- 
sion; the Queen of Angels send down to greet him, and 
the choirs and thrones and principalities, with the saints 
and elect, praise God with exceeding praise for the mar- 
tyr's death. 

He commended anew his blessed soul into the hands 
of Jesus the Redeemer; the cart was drawn away, and the 
Primate was hanging by the neck. When he seemed 
insensible he was cut down, quartered, and disembowel- 
led; his bowels were thrown into the fire; but his happy 
soul had escaped the eternal fire of hell and flown into 
the bosom of "the Lord God, the strong and patient 
Judge." 



" Thev doomed him without stain, and here he dies." 



OLIVER PLUNKETT. 



169 



His body was begged of the king, and was interred, all 
but the head and arms, in the churchyard of " St. Giles's 
in the Fields," within the shadow of the north wall, be- 
side the five noble Sons of Loyola, who had laid down 
their lives as cheerfully and heroically as he. Upon his 
coffin was placed a copper-plate bearing the inscrip- 
tion: 

" In this tomb resteth the body of the Right Reverend 
Oliver Plunkett, Archbishop of Armagh and Primate of 
Ireland, who, in hatred of religion, was accused of high 
treason by false witnesses, and for the same condemned 
and executed at Tyburn, his heart and bowels being 
taken out and cast into the fire. He suffered martyrdom 
with constancy, the 1st of July, 1681, in the reign of 
Charles II." 

This inscription was written by Father Corker, to 
whom the Primate had bequeathed his body, as the 
priest himself mentions, and as is also related by Dodd 
in his Church History. But his body was not suffered 
to remain in the quiet corner of St. Giles's; in 1683, when 
the Crop-eared Plot, as it was called, broke out, the Pri- 
mate's remains were taken up and conveyed beyond the 
sea to the Benedictine monastery at Lambspring in 
Germany,* where they rested for some time, with a hand- 
some monument erected by Father Corker and bearing 
a Latin inscription. 

We have but little more to tell, save that the blood of 
the martyr seemed to be as an iron wall against the rage 
of the persecutors. In the very consummation of this 
act of cruelty and injustice the innocence of the martyr 
was almost universally admitted, and he himself held 
up to public veneration. It is declared by some of his 
contemporaries that by his death he did more for the 



* Athen. Oxbn., p. 221. 



I/O 



NAMES THAT LIVE. 



Irish Church than he could have done by living a cen- 
tury longer. Yet this does not prevent his execution 
from being, as a Protestant writer, Goldwin Smith, de- 
clares, " a stain on the white ermine of English justice." 
Bishop Burnet affirms that "he was condemned and 
suffered very decently, expressing himself in many par- 
ticulars as became a bishop. He died denying every- 
thing that had been sworn against him." * 

The Primate's right hand was enshrined and kept in 
the sanctuary; his head was brought from Lambspring 
to Rome in 1683, and fell into the possession of Cardinal 
Howard. Dominick Maguire, who had been appointed 
Dr. Plunkett's successor in the primacy, died soon after, 
and Dr. Hugh McMahon became Archbishop of Armagh. 
Being an ardent admirer of his martyred predecessor, he 
brought with him, on his return to Ireland, the head of 
Dr. Plunkett, which he had obtained from Cardinal 
Howard. It was, however, finally given to a convent of 
Dominican nuns founded at Drogheda, of which Cather- 
ine Plunkett, probably a relative of the deceased Prelate, 
was Prioress. Here, in what is known as the Sienna 
Convent, the head remains, with a certificate of its genu- 
ineness signed by several authorities. It was at first 
placed in a silver case. " At present it is enshrined in a 
little ebony temple, at each of the four angles of which 
is a Corinthian pillar of silver; the sides are also inlaid 
with silver. There are two doors, one in the front and 
one in the rear, and inside of each there is a glass plate, 
through which the head can be seen. On the silver plate 
in the front door are the Primate's arms, surmounted by 
a silver mitre. On each angle of the roof is a silver 
flame, emblematical of martyrdom. The head itself is 
of a brown color and quite perfect, with the exception 



*vol. 1. p. 502» 



OLIVER PLUNKETT. 



171 



of the nose, which is slightly injured. It still retains 
some of the white hair, as we find from De Burgo." * 

We have endeavored, as far as the limits of our sketch 
would permit, to give a faithful picture of the great 
Archbishop, whose sufferings for the faith and subse- 
quent martyrdom, have placed him in the front rank of 
those whom the Church holds up to our veneration. 
While we are conscious of having fallen far short of the 
greatness of the subject, we are also aware of having 
labored faithfully and conscientiously to add our mite 
in bringing before the Catholic public this great and 
good man, too little known at the present day. Our 
task is, however, done, and it only remains to take a last 
general glance at the qualities which would have ren- 
dered him illustrious, had the crowning glory of martyr- 
dom never been vouchsafed him, as well as to give a 
brief description of his personal appearance, which our 
readers may find interesting. In the various portraits 
extant of him, as well as in the accounts of biographers, 
we find him represented at first in the very prime of 
manhood, and afterwards under the aspect of a prema- 
turely old and sorrow-stricken man. In both are the 
same high, broad forehead, firm mouth and chin, attest- 
ing the mingled strength and gentleness of his character; 
the large dark eyes, and the unalterable expression of 
truth, holiness, and purity. But in the later pictures of 
him we observe the untimely furrows, the worn and 
sorrowful expression, lending a chastened dignity and 
an exalted sanctity which well befitted the martyr soon to 
win his crown. He was not very old at the time of his 
martyrdom, having been born at Loughrea in or about 
the year 1631 and suffered death in 1681. In character 
he united the most consummate prudence with the most 



* Crolly's Life of Plunkett. 



172 



NAMES THAT LIVE. 



heroic courage; profound learning with remarkable 
modesty and simplicity; the purest patriotism with the 
most unqualified submission to authority; a burning 
zeal with an untiring gentleness. Patient, full of char- 
ity, extraordinarily humble, he seemed to have ever be- 
fore the eye of his mind that divine Master whom he 
served. In order that for the contumely he had suffered 
he might have glory, and for the sorrow a garment of 
praise, he seemed never to have lost sight of the vision 
of " light everlasting, infinite brightness, and steadfast 
peace." To such privileged souls as his, endowed with 
special gifts and graces, it is given to behold the man- 
sions of that supernal city with something of the dis- 
tinctness of the just made perfect, while we poor pil- 
grims perceive it afar off " and darkly as if through a 
glass." So it is well with him, and may he offer up 
prayers for us before the eternal altar of the most high 
God ! It is curious, on the other hand, to observe the fate 
of some of his enemies. On the very day after the 
Primate's execution the Earl of Shaftesbury was 
dragged to the Tower amid the execrations of the popu- 
lace. Many of the witnesses whom he had employed at 
the trials of his victims offered to give evidence against 
him, so that he narrowly escaped and fled to Amster- 
dam, where he died soon after. Oates was convicted of 
perjury and condemned to perpetual imprisonment, 
being also deprived of his pension. Rouse and College 
were hanged. The Dissenters, who had been so active 
in bringing about his death, were themselves persecuted 
before the end of the year, the laws against Dissenters 
being put in force. Most of the witnesses against him 
were reduced to a condition of the greatest misery, and 
were universally detested, even by those whom they had 
formerly aided by their perjuries, and it is said were 
consumed by the liveliest remorse. One of them, Duffy, 



OLIVER PLUNKETT. 



173 



prematurely old, worn, and wasted, came years after the 
Primate's death to Dr. Hugh McMahon, his successor, 
crying out in agony, " Am I never to have peace ? Is 
there no mercy for me?" Dr. McMahon, in answer, 
pointed to the martyr's head, and the unhappy wretch 
fainted. He afterwards did public penance for his sins, 
and died a penitent. His conversion was no doubt 
obtained by the prayers of the great and good Primate 
offered to Christ, who had placed him among the elect.* 



* We have taken our information principally from the Life of Dr. 
Plunkett, by Rev. George Crolly; from the Ecclesiastical History of 
Ireland, by Rev. M. J. Brennan, O.S.F. ; from Feller's Biographie 
Universelle; from Dr. Moran's Memoirs of Plunkett; and from vari- 
ous other sources, Protestant as well as Catholic. 



I?i his deportment 
Was seen a clear collectedness and ease, 
A simple grace and gentle dignity, 
That failed not at the first accost to please. 

In public strife his spirit glowed with zeal, 
For truth and justice, as its warp and woof, 
For freedom as its signature a?id seal. 

His life thus sacred from the world, discharged 
From vain ambition, a?id inordinate care, 
In virtue exercised, by reverence rare 
Lifted, and by humility e7ilarged 
Became a teynple and a place of prayer. 

Tay 



Signer of the Declaration of Independence. 

It ought to be one of the first objects of a republican people to 
enshrine the characters of those men to whom their prosperity may be 
even in part ascribed, and with whose names their national character 
will be associated.* 

EVER in the history of the world has a more 
inspiring struggle taken place than that which 
began by the battle of Lexington, April 19th 
1775, and ended by the Treaty of Peace signed at Paris, 
on the 3d of September, 1783. It is not our purpose to 
trace out the causes of that revolution, to go back 
through that long list of oppressive acts, upon the part 
of the British Government, which finally induced the 
patriots of the New World to take up arms in the sacred 
cause of liberty. The soul-thrilling words of Patrick 
Henry in the Assembly of Virginia, " give me liberty, or 
give me death," rang like a watchword through the 



* The Jesuit's Letters — Letter VI. from Inchiquin, dated Washing- 
ton, p. 65. — These letters are a private correspondence between one 
Jesuit in America to another in Europe, and were said to have been 
accidentally brought to light. The ideas therein contained upon 
Washington, his government and the like, are admirable. The fol- 
lowing passage occurs in a nott to one of the letters: "No political 
improvements, no national institutions, no course of policy, no sys- 
tem, however excellent, can tend so much to make a nation happy as 
the disinterested exertions of individuals, exalted by their superior 
talents and virtue." 




i;8 



NAMES THAT LIVE. 



country. From the grand old Potomac sweeping on its 
way, from the calm shores of Lake Champlain on the 
north, from the eastern limits of Cape Cod, sounded and 
resounded vhat password of freedom. Massachusetts 
shouted it in triumph from her hill-tops, the mighty 
West heard it echoed and re-echoed through her pathless 
prairies, and the broad southern river bore it onward 
into the depths of the Gulf Stream. " If this be treason," 
cried he, "make the most of it." The most was made; 
the Virginia Assembly was forcibly closed. Boston, 
after its celebrated tea-party, was the next to fall under 
British displeasure. Her port was closed. But in spite 
of all the spark had kindled into a flame — a flame never 
to be extinguished till America was free. The struggle 
began; messengers bore the news from Boston to Lex- 
ington that the British were on their way thither. Every 
town and village, every tree and fence, afforded shelter 
to the Americans. The sun of liberty had appeared 
above the horizon, nor has it yet set, though a hundred 
years have lent their majesty to the graves of Washing- 
ton and the patriots of the revolution. 

To follow the glorious panorama of battles now open- 
ing out before us would be apart from the purpose of 
our sketch. But it can neither be out of place nor un- 
interesting to the Catholic reader to observe the part 
borne by our co-religionists in the struggle for inde- 
pendence. Their exalted patriotism should indeed free 
us forever from the unjust reproach that no true Catholic 
can be a loyal citizen. It should rather serve to estab- 
lish a contrary axiom, that every true Catholic must of 
necessity be a loyal citizen.* 



* A Frenchman, Du Bourg, gives the following in his description 
of America, quoted by J. Carroll Brent in his Biography of Arch- 
bishop Carroll: " During the last war which the United States waged 



CHARLES CARROLL OF CARROLL TON. iyg 



To begin by the foreign aid, which came to assist the 
colonists in their hour of bitter trial, when, bravely fight- 
ing against adverse circumstances, they had little but 
their confidence in the justice of their cause to save 
them from despair. Catholic France stood from the out- 
set at the head of the list. The king gave substantial 
sympathy and assistance under the form of 6,000,000 
francs. The queen, that fair and gracious Marie Antoi- 
nette, whose tragic death was so soon after to fill all 
Europe with gloom, took the interests of the colony much 
to heart. Many noblemen and officers were directly or 
indirectly encouraged to come out to America and offer 
their swords to the illustrious Washington. Of these 
latter we must be content to name the principal ones, 
and of course begin with Lafayette, the witty and grace- 
ful, who fitted out a vessel at his own expense, became 
aid-de-camp of the generalissimo, and subsequently a 
major-general in the Continental army. From his own 
vessel, the " Victory," he writes to his wife: 

" From love to me become a good American. The 
welfare of America is closely bound up with the welfare 
of all mankind; it is about to become the safe asylum 
of virtue, tolerance, equality and peaceful liberty." * 

Among the women of France he was the hero of the 
hour, and even the beautiful young queen gave him her 
admiration. A contemporary was known to say, " It is 
fortunate for the king that Lafayette did not take it into 
his head to strip Versailles of its furniture to send to his 



against England, none were more ardent in their patriotism, none more 
ready to carry aid wherever it was needed, and none more active in 
laboring, even with their hands, in the construction of whatever was 
requisite for the defence, than the Catholics; so that the Protestants 
were compelled to acknowledge that they were excellent citizens, no 
less than upright and honorable men." 
* Bancroft, vol. ix. 



i8o 



NAMES THAT LIVE. 



dear America, as his majesty would have been unable 
to refuse it." 

There was D'Estaing, who arrived with his fleet at a 
moment of vital importance to the cause of independence, 
and whose assistance conduced so much to the final and 
famous end of the drama at Yorktown. There was 
Rochambeau, with his men and his squadron; the Count 
de Grasse, with his naval force, and a host of other brave 
soldiers who came to shed their blood if necessary upon 
this alien soil. This aid from France was never withheld, 
from the time when that wounded French officer appeared 
in Philadelphia, and, after repeated intimations that a 
stranger had arrived in the place, a committee was ap- 
pointed to see him. They asked him his business; he 
said, " Gentlemen, if you want arms or ammunition you 
shall have them; if you want money you shall have it." 
They asked him his authority. " Gentlemen," he said, 
drawing his hand across his throat, " I shall take care of 
my head." He answered no further, and was seen no 
more in Philadelphia. 

Within the last year the descendants of those heroes 
have been invited to American shores to participate in 
the celebration and the rejoicings of that far-off victory 
of Yorktown. What Catholic France did for the wel- 
fare of the young republic, Catholic Spain did in the 
measure of her ability. Though this aid was chiefly in 
money and goods, it was none the less acceptable, and 
betrayed none the less the kindly spirit which animated 
the Spanish people. There are accounts given, too, of 
services rendered by the Count de Galvez, Spanish gov- 
ernor of Louisiana, and one of the ablest statesmen of 
that day in Spain. Meanwhile, there was another little 
country of Europe, the very gem of Catholic States, the 
national misfortunes of which, and the sufferings of 
which, endured for religion, have made it the theme of 



CHARLES CARROLL OF CARROLLTON. 181 



many a ballad and romance. From Poland came the 
noble and disinterested Casimir Pulaski and Thaddeus 
Kosciusko. They were both members of ancient and 
honorable families, who had distinguished themselves 
by devotion to a hapless and hopeless cause. It was 
long after the War of Independence that Kosciusko, re- 
leased from imprisonment by the czar, took back his 
sword, with the mournful words, " I have no need of a 
sword. I have no country to defend." He appeared 
before Washington, and was asked, "What can you do?" 
" Try me," was his laconic but forcible reply. In com- 
mon with his compatriot Pulaski, he displayed the same 
desperate valor and loyalty that both had so often shown 
on the battle-fields of their native land. To Kosciusko 
Congress returned a vote of thanks at the end of the 
war. To Pulaski a monument was erected at Savannah 
in memory of his gallant deeds. It was at the siege of 
that city that he fell mortally wounded.* 

Last but not least there were innumerable Irishmen 
who fought in this good fight, and lived to enjoy the 
ultimate triumph or strewed the ground with their corpses 
at Valley Forge, at Trenton, at White Plains, Ticonder- 
oga, or Quebec. We do not only refer to Irish officers 
in the service of France, such as Count Dillon and 
others of his rank, who claimed from the French king 
the first and best right to fight against the English. We 
mean such men as Moylan, brother to the Roman Cath- 
olic Bishop of Cork, who organized Moylan's Dra- 
goons, and was aid-de-camp to Washington; as Barry, 
the dashing and brilliant Barry, the father of the Ameri- 

* We have made no mention here of the brave German soldiers 
who likewise had their share in promoting this good cause. The rea- 
son is obvious; and indeed these individual Germans were the only 
non-Catholic people of Europe who evinced any sympathy for the 
Americans. 



NAMES THA T LIVE. 



can navy, the first naval officer who bore the title of 
commodore, " saucy Jack Barry, half Irishman, half 
Yankee," as he described himself, the incorruptible 
hero, who, when offered by Lord Howe 150,000 guineas 
and a commission in the royal navy, cried out: 

"Not the value nor the command of the whole British 
fleet could tempt me from the American cause." He 
was a sincere and devoted Catholic, and, we are told, 
" practically religious." He left most of his possessions 
to the Catholic Orphan Asylum, Philadelphia, and lies 
at rest in St. Joseph's, of that city. 

On such soldiers, again, as Colonel Fitzgerald, Wash- 
ington's favorite aid-de-camp,* and an officer in the old 
Blue and Buffs, the first volunteer company raised in the 
South. At the battle of Princeton occurred the follow- 
ing incident : The American troops were on the point 
of retreating. Washington, placing himself ^between his 
men and the enemy, cried out, " Will you give up your 
general to the enemy?" Fitzgerald, who had taken an 
order to the rear, returned at this moment. He thus de- 
scribes it himself : 

" On my return," said he, " I perceived the General, 
immediately between our line and that of the enemy, 
both lines levelling for the decisive fire that was to de- 
cide the fortune of the day. Instantly there was a roar 
of musketry followed by a shout. It was the shout of 
victory. On raising my eyes, I discovered the enemy 
broken and flying, while dimly amid the glimpses of 
the smoke was seen Washington, alive and unharmed, 
waving his hat and cheering his comrades to the pur- 
suit. I dashed my rowels into my charger's flanks, and 
flew to his side, exclaiming, ' Thank God ! Your Excel- 



* Mr. G. Washington Custis and other writers of note mention him 
at length, as also McGee, in his Irish Settlers, etc., etc. 



CHARLES CARROLL OF CARROLL TON. 183 



lency is safe.' I wept like a child for joy." * Of the 
Irish patriots, who fought for American independence, a 
well-known writer says : " They may sleep in the silent 
tomb, but the remembrance of their virtues will be 
cherished while memory is dear to the American heart." 
Among other Catholics who played a more or less impor- 
tant part in the history of those stirring times we must 
not forget the Abbe Xicoli, Tuscan Minister to the 
Court of Joseph II., who was an enthusiastic " abettor of 
the insurgents," and did all in his power to persuade the 
Austrian sovereign to lend them his countenance and 
assistance. But the tatter's conclusive " I am a king by 
trade," settled the matter. His heart was closed against 
such generous sentiments, and he would neither receive 
the American ambassadors, nor permit the subject of the 
rebellion to be mooted in his presence. f But this was 
the same Joseph who plotted at once against the Church 
and the Jesuits. 

Nearer the theatre of war was Father Gibault. This 
eminent and patriotic ecclesiastic was pastor of Yin- 
cennes, and was truly devoted to the continental cause. 
He it was who blessed the arms of the French officers in 
the service of America, who administered the oath of 
allegiance to Congress in his church, and who induced 
the Catholic Indians to take up arms. A distinguished 
Protestant writer declares that. " the United States were 
principally indebted to Father Gibault for the accession 
of the States comprised in the original Northwestern 
Territory." \ 

It was the Catholic tribes of Maine that most nobly 
responded to Washington's appeal for assistance, and 
Orono, a devout Catholic chief, makes quite a romantic 



* McGee's Irish Settlers, f Bancroft, vol. ix. % Judge Law. 



184 



NAMES THAT LIVE. 



figure in early colonial history, and in the continental 
army, wherein he held a commission. These good and 
simple souls made only one stipulation, that they should 
have a priest with each detachment. We have thus 
lightly skimmed over a subject which is of the deepest 
interest and last importance. So noble and so valiantly 
sustained was, indeed, that wonderful struggle for 
independence, that we cannot help regarding with the 
highest admiration, deepest respect, and utmost sym- 
pathy, every actor who appeared upon its scenes. Now, 
among its actors, and more particularly among those 
gentlemen of birth, education and position, who were 
called upon to sign the immortal Declaration of Inde- 
pendence, none strikes us more forcibly, nor seems, as it 
were, to stand out more boldly from the rest, than 
Charles Carroll of Carrollton. 

Charles Carroll came of a good old Irish .stock. His 
grandfather was the first of the family to settle in 
America. He came thither about the year 1680, and 
settled at Annapolis in Maryland. A brief glance of 
the history of Maryland about this time, and. for many 
years before and after, gives us one of the most curious 
instances of religious intolerance on record. It will be 
remembered that Lord Baltimore had established at St. 
Mary's, on the Chesapeake, " the first community in the 
world in which entire freedom of conscience was a 
fundamental maxim of law." * " It forms a curious fact 
in the history of the human mind," continues the same 
author, f " that exiles from intolerant episcopacy in Vir- 
ginia ; persecuted dissenters from Puritan New England ; 
the Swedes, driven by violence from Delaware, and 



* History of the American Revolution, by a non-Catholic writer, 
Samuel F. Wilson, 
f Ibid. 



CHARLES CARROLL OF CARROLLTON. 



I8 5 



French Huguenots from Europe, found generous pro- 
tection and complete freedom of faith in a colony of 
Catholics.* For some time all went well, some Jesuit 
fathers, notably Fathers White and Altham, arrived on 
the shores of the Chesapeake in March, 1570. They 
offered up the Holy Sacrifice, and marched in procession 
bearing a large cross. The governor, commissioners 
and many others took part in this procession, and a site 
having been chosen, the cross was planted there, with 
deep and fervent devotion. " They raised the cross, a 
trophy to Christ the Saviour, humbly chanting, and on 
bended knees, the Litany of the Cross." These priests 
afterward went to labor, one among the Patuxent, the 
other among the Piscataway Indians. But others took 
their places, and religion was making its first steps in 
the colony when a revolution broke out in 1644. After 
that time intolerance had full sway in Maryland, the in- 
tolerance of non-Catholics against their Catholic fellow- 
citizens, who had first procured for them the blessings 
of religious liberty. This persecution of priests and 
Catholics had previously existed in most of the other 
States, but here, in the cradle of freedom, it began now 
to rear its head. Every possible restraint was put upon 
Catholics ; the exercise of their religion was forbidden 
them, and they were consequently almost entirely with- 
out churches. This state of things continued, and was 
in full force on the arrival in America of Mr. Carroll, 
the grandfather of our hero. Some years later, in 
1689, he entered the service of Lord Baltimore as his 
agent, and fulfilled the duties of that office with an 
honesty and energy which commanded the highest re- 
spect. The son of this Charles Carroll married Eliza- 



* The "curious fact" is not apparent to us. It was only what was 
to be expected from a colony of devout Catholics. 



1 86 NAMES THAT LIVE. 

beth Brookes, and it was their only son who was des- 
tined to play so important a part in the history of his 
country. 

Of his earlier years the glimpses given by most biog- 
raphers are scanty enough. He was born in the year 
1737, at that old Manor House built upon the 10,000 
acres which Lord Baltimore had granted to his agent. 
That Manor House in Anne Arundel County, Maryland, 
had its view of the broad rolling Patuxent, its plantation, 
and its wide lands attached, and it also had, what in 
those days the Catholic gentry of sufficient fortune and 
position were compelled through religious persecution 
to have, namely — a chapel. This chapel was to supply, 
in some degree, for the want of a neighboring church, 
and here the Carroll family on Sundays and holy-days 
devoutly assembled. 

While Charles was still very young he was sent with 
his cousin John Carroll, afterwards Archbishop of Balti- 
more, to begin his studies with the Jesuit Fathers at 
Bohemia Manor. Here these indefatigable religious had 
established, in the face of trial and danger and discour- 
agement, a small boarding-school, where the youth of 
the country might be trained in knowledge, virtue and 
their duties to God and man. It was as a dim fore- 
shadowing of that great College of Georgetown, many 
years afterwards established by Archbishop Carroll, 
"on one of the loveliest and most captivating spots on 
the Potomac." 

But many years had to elapse till then; the Carrolls 
were to see many trials and many changes abroad and 
in their native land, seas were to roll between, and 
divers great events, before the one cousin was to found, 
so to say, the Catholic Church in America, and the, 
other to stand foremost among the defenders of national 
liberty. 



CHARLES CARROLL OF CARROLLTON. 187 

The record of both boys at their elementary school was 
good, though their stay there was but short. Charles 
Carroll, at the age of eleven, bade farewell to his native 
Maryland, which he was not to see for many years, ac- 
companied by his cousin, the future archbishop. It is 
probable the boy's heart was scarcely mature enough as 
yet to feel more than a brief and passing sadness at this 
separation from home, with its sweet and tender associa- 
tions, from favorite playmates and beloved parents. The 
next six years were spent with his cousin at the Jesuit 
College of St. Omer, in France. Here the boy's natural 
love of learning displayed itself, and that fine and pol- 
ished intellect of after years began to develop within the 
walls of that celebrated sanctuary of learning. St. Omer 
was followed by a year at Rheims, Rheims by two years 
at the famous College of Louis le Grand, Paris, Paris by 
Bourges, and Bourges by England. In each of these 
places, which we shall momentarily regard in detail, high- 
ly colored threads of the old romantic life of Continental 
Europe were woven into the warp and woof of the young 
man's existence, that existence which was to ripen and 
grow to old age among strange and troublous scenes in 
his native country. There was St. Omer, the quaint, 
quiet, almost mediaeval town, Rheims, with its histories 
of grand pageants and its gorgeous historical memorials, 
where the gloom of rich cathedrals was brightened by 
the burnished gold or steel of many mail-clad warriors ; 
where kings came in triumph to bend the head, and re- 
ceive from the hands of archbishops the gem-studded 
diadem of France ; where the most wondrous event in 
the world's history was enacted, and the peasant maid, 
the virgin of Domremy, restored to France her king. 
Bourges, that living chronicle of olden days, all were to 
have their effect in making the boy what he afterwards 
became. But they had all little in common with the 



I 



i88 



NAMES THAT LIVE. 



newer and more varied phases of life through which the 
mind of the student passed in those two great centres of 
civilization, Paris and London. Not that the gay, bril- 
liant life of the French capital could entirely dispel the 
growing shadows of age that were darkening around 
that far-famed College of Louis le Grand. The name 
of those shades was legion ; the poet and the saint, the 
courtier and the general, the noble and the rich citizen, 
the gifted and the witty and the learned, all alike passed 
from its portals into the amphitheatre of life. But they 
bore with them their alma mater s ineffaceable mark ; 
the something indefinably chivalrous in bearing, indefina- 
bly courteous in manner, the scarcely perceptible vein 
of romance, the remnant of the true old French knightly 
spirit which the preceptors had encouraged rather than 
discountenanced. The two years which Charles Carroll 
spent therein passed rapidly away, but not so their ef- 
fect. The polished and erudite debater of after days, the 
patriot and the statesman, bore " its shadow plain to 
see." After a year more at Bourges the student pro- 
ceeded to England, specially to continue his law studies 
at the Inns Temple. It was an abrupt change from 
Bourges, it was an abrupt change from the royally en- 
dowed college where the young gentlemen of France 
were instructed not only in science and religion, but in 
all the accomplishments suitable to their rank, fortune 
and position. The manner of life was totally different, 
but the young man formed many warm friendships in 
London during the seven years of his stay there. At the 
end of that time he thought of returning to America. 
He returned alone. 

His cousin and schoolfellow, John Carroll, had long 
since entered the novitiate of the Society of Jesus, and 
was some years previous to this a priest. In 1764 Charles 
Carroll set sail for home, his heart full of strange and 



CHARLES CARROLL OF CARROLLTON 



varied emotions. The boy returned a man, with the 
ripe judgment, scholarly intellect and polished manners 
which his long absence in foreign countries and his ex- 
perience of various peoples and places had given him. 

The first years of his return home were those in which 
revolutionary principles began to be rife in the breasts 
of the colonists. Not that they desired revolution, nor 
at first even separation from the mother country. But 
they were growing every day more determined to pre- 
serve those inalienable rights and sacred liberties which 
they had crossed the sea to find. Our hero almost from 
the first entered with animation into the subject of politi- 
cal freedom. His clear judgment and quick percep- 
tion saw where the weakness lay in the system of govern- 
ment which the mother country was trying to impose 
upon the colonies. It was somewhere about 1770 that 
he became involved in the famous polemical warfare with 
the eminent lawyer Dulany. It was a question of prin- 
ciple between the people versus Governor Eden. Mr. 
Carroll's logic in favor of the former was unanswerable. 
He had precisely the temper of mind to encounter such 
an antagonist, and the courage of his opinions to maintain 
the right. In this controversy he assumed the soubriquet 
of First Citizen, in allusion to a dialogue once published 
on a similar subject under the names of First and Second 
Citizens. 

There was a softer episode in his life about this time, 
for it must not be supposed that that old manor house 
near the Patuxent had not its measure of romance, the 
golden thread of poetry, to brighten the dark tissue of 
actual fact. 

In 1768 Mr. Carroll married Mary Darnall, a kinswo- 
man of Lord Baltimore. This marriage, contracted un- 
der the most auspicious circumstances, with the full ap- 
probation of all concerned, was destined to be of brief 



NAMES THAT LIVE. 



duration. While the four children born of this union 
were still quite young, Mrs. Carroll died, and the hus- 
band, inconsolable for her loss, devoted himself heart 
and soul to the affairs of his country. Three of his chil- 
dren, Catherine, Mary, and Charles, remained to become 
the joy and solace of their afflicted father, but the fourth, 
Eliza, died in early childhood. 

Some years after Mr. Carroll proposed to another 
Mary Darnall, a cousin of his wife and a rich heiress ; he 
was accepted. 

After his triumph in the First Citizen contest he 
was greeted with acclamation by the citizens of Annapo- 
lis. They made a public demonstration in his honor, and 
tendered him the thanks of the community. He was, in 
fact, already fast coming into prominence as a bold and 
fearless patriotic leader. It was about this time that Mary- 
land replied, in answer to Governor Sharpe's message, 
" that they would not be deterred from joining in consti- 
tutional measures for common objects with the legisla- 
tures of the other colonies." "We shall not be intimi- 
dated," continued they, "by a few sounding phrases from 
doing what we think to be right." 

It was about this time, too, and when the temper of the 
people was such as we have seen, that Charles Carroll 
boldly urged upon the naval commander, Stewart, the 
necessity of resolute action in regard to the tea with 
which his vessel was loaded. The commander had 
wavered and wavered, but this word in season decided 
him. The vessel was burned to the water's edge, and 
the people of Annapolis thus added their protest to those 
which had been going up from the other States. Some 
time before, in a letter to a friend, Mr. Carroll had broad- 
ly asserted the determination of the people to resist all 
such oppressive deeds as the passage of the ever-memora- 
ble Stamp Act, and declared that so great was their love 



CHARLES CARROLL OF CARROLLTON. 



I 9 I 



of liberty that nothing but an armed force could ever 
overcome their opposition to the unjust principle of tax- 
ation without representation. Some, years afterwards he 
wrote to this same friend the famous and truly inspiring 
words : 

"The British troops, if sent here, will find naught but 
enemies before and behind them. If we are beaten in 
the plains we will retire to our mountains and defy them. 
They will be masters but of the spot on which they en- 
camp. Necessity will force us to exertion, until, tired of 
combatting in vain against a spirit which victory after 
victory cannot subdue, your armies will evacuate our 
soil, and your country retire, an immense loser from the 
contest." Such was the spirit which animated the man, 
and when the people of Maryland, somewhere as early as 
1773, joined with the other States in a fearless and reso- 
lute opposition to the encroachments of the home gov- 
ernment, they found an active leader, a polished yet for- 
cible mouthpiece, a courteous yet formidable champion 
of their views in the subject of our sketch. 

Mr. Carroll's eminent public services were at last begin- 
ning to make a favorable impression upon those who had 
hitherto regarded him with the liveliest distrust and even 
hostility, as a Papist and an emissary of the Jesuits. He 
was heart and soul devoted to that faith, which had been 
so carefully fostered in him from infancy upwards. It 
now bore its fruits in the stand which he took to have 
the disgraceful statutes of religious intolerance effaced 
from the Constitution of Maryland. This laudable ob- 
ject he earnestly pursued for some years, and strained 
every nerve for its accomplishment. " A committee to 
prepare a declaration of the rights and form of govern- 
ment for this State," had a most zealous and efficient 
member in our hero. This was a year before the Revo- 
lution, consequently in 1775. That their efforts were 



192 



NAMES THAT LIVE. 



crowned with the measure of success which they de- 
served, our after glimpses of the history of Maryland 
fully prove. 

Meantime, strange events were occurring in Europe. 
There was the bitter and impious warfare against the Jes- 
uits in Portugal which afterwards extended to France 
and other continental countries. This outbreak drew forth 
from various archbishops, cardinals and even the popes 
themselves, an energetic and indignant protest against 
this unjust and unworthy persecution of a society, which, 
to quote the Archbishop of Paris, Christopher Beaumont, 
"is pious, because the Council of Trent has so declared 
it, is venerable, as it was styled by the illustrious Bos- 
suet." The Pope, Clement XIII., speaks of it as "an In- 
stitute, useful to the Church, long approved by the Apos- 
tolic See, honored by the Roman pontiffs and the Coun- 
cil of Trent with imperishable praise." He declared that 
he shuddered in saying that the men were " by violence 
dispensed from the observance of those sacred vows they 
had taken before God's altar." However, the whole pon- 
tificate of Clement XIII., and, indeed, that of his predeces- 
sor. Benedict, was spent in vainly defending this noble 
company. During the reign of Clement XIV. such pres- 
sure was brought to bear on him that, like " one who sac- 
rifices his most precious goods to allay the fury of the 
storm,"* he issued his famous Bull " Dominus ac Re- 
demptor," suppressing the Society of Jesus, "its houses, 
functions and offices." 

It would be idle here to bring forward the innumera- 
ble proofs of what is so widely known to Catholics, 
namely, that the Bull, as its very wording suggests, was 
a mere matter of expediency, which none more deeply 



* Abbe Darras, Church History, vol. iv. 



CHARLES CARROLL OF CARROLLTON. 



regretted than the sovereign Pontiff himself. To be as- 
sured of this, we need only remember that other, though 
not so widely known Bull, " Coelestium Munerum Thesau- 
ros:" " It is with joy and happiness that we bestow of the 
abundance of heavenly treasures upon those who ear- 
nestly seek the good of souls, as we reckon among those 
faithful laborers in the vineyard, the religious of the So- 
ciety of Jesus. We most assuredly desire to nourish and 
increase, by spiritual favors, the enterprising and active 
piety and zeal of those religious." This Bull, indeed, 
marked the beginning of his pontificate, and served 
but to bring down upon his head the full fury of the 
storm. 

If we have alluded to this subject here, and if our so 
doing should seem an unwarrantable digression, the 
reader must remember that this occurrence had a two- 
fold and apparently contradictory effect upon the Catho- 
lics of America. In the first place, the effect was decid- 
edly unfavorable; it deprived them of their most zealous 
and indefatigable pastors and missionaries, and at a time 
when both had still to encounter the turmoil of religious 
strife and the fury of religious intolerance. But, in the 
second place, it militated favorably upon the infant 
Church, by bringing out Father Carroll, the Jesuit, to his 
native land. His arrival, about 1774, was an occasion of 
lively joy to the Carroll family and to the Catho- 
lics of Maryland in general. His after career, as Vicar- 
Apostolic, Bishop and Archbishop cannot be here con- 
sidered. But we know that he was the patriarch and pi- 
oneer of Catholic faith in Maryland, and, indeed, in his 
whole vast diocese, which for some time included the 
thirteen original colonies. 

Some two years after Father Carroll's arrival, in the 
spring of 1776, Charles Carroll was requested to persuade 



i 9 4 



NAMES THAT LIVE. 



his cousin, the Jesuit, to accompany him on a mission, 
which was just then being planned to Canada.* It was 
a diplomatic mission of a delicate nature, and had for its 
object to persuade the people of Canada to join with the 
United Colonies in the coming struggle, or, at least, to 
remain neutral. Charles Carroll, Samuel Chase and 
Benjamin Franklin were the lay commissioners, and 
Father Carroll the only clerical. He had consented to 
co-operate with them to the extent of inducing the Cana- 
dians to remain neutral; further than that he declared he 
could not go, deeming it incompatible with his profession 
as a minister of the Gospel. On the 2d of April, 1776, 
they set out from New York, sailed up the Hudson, and 
continued their voyage from Albany to Montreal, with 
all the discomforts and hardships which made travelling 
in those days a species of martyrdom. The voyage lasted 
a month. The details given of this journey are not nu- 
merous. What we principally know of it is, the failure of 
its object. That which the lay commissioners did among 

* We subjoin an extract from the Archbishop's letter to his mother: 
"We have come." he says, "at length to the end of our long and te- 
dious journey, after meeting with several delays on account of the 
impassable condition of the lakes. We were received here (Montreal) 
at the landing by General Arnold, and a great body of officers, gen- 
try, etc., and saluted by firing of cannon and other military honors." 
He goes on to speak at some length of the social civilities offered 
them, and continues (letter of Archbishop Carroll, from Brent. Bio- 
graphy of Archbishop Carroll, pp. 40-43). describing the journey 
homeward, speaking of New York as "no more the gay, polite place 
it used to be esteemed;" but as "almost a desert except for the 
troops." At Albany they were entertained by General Schuyler. 
"At Ticonderoga," he says, "we embarked on the great Lake of 
Champlain. We had a passage of three days and a half. We always 
came to in the night time. Passengers generally encamp in the 
woods, making a covering of the boughs of trees, and large fires at 
their feet. But as we had a good awning to our boat, etc., I chose to 
sleep on board." 



CHARLES CARROLL OF CARROLL TON. 19$ 



the Canadian people, Father Carroll did among the cler- 
gy. But in vain. Many reasons militated against them. 
In the first place, it was but the year before that the Con- 
tinental Congress had sent their foolish and insolent pro- 
test to Lord North against the passage of the Quebec 
Act; the Quebec Act being simply legislation to con- 
firm the French Canadian Catholics in the freedom of 
conscience previously enjoyed under the French re- 
gime. The terms in which this remonstrance was 
couched were, to say the least, bigoted, fanatical and ab- 
horrent to every member of the Catholic Church. The 
Canadians could not forget, and though Congress offered 
them the most advantageous terms, and proffered com- 
plete and entire freedom in religious matters, the people 
of Canada were chary of connecting themselves with a 
country wherein religious intolerance had been so long 
rampant. It was a spirit which had come out as an evil leg- 
acy from the mother country, and a stain which it required 
the purifying influence of the Revolution to purge out. 
Added to this there was the conciliatory policy of Gover- 
nor Guy Carleton, one of the most popular of English 
Viceroys of that day. To Father Carroll the clergy made 
the same response that the lay seculars did to the other 
commissioners; they said they could not encourage their 
flock to take up arms for a chimerical liberty, when they 
were even then in possession of all its most solid advan- 
tages. Hence, though they were treated with every cour- 
tesy, this mission to Canada totally failed. The French 
Canadian people, indeed, for the most part, and especial- 
ly in some districts, combatted the Americans during the 
progress of the war with little enthusiasm. But our space 
forbids us to enter into such details. The commissioners 
returned to New York, Father Carroll and Benjamin 
Franklin first, the others following. From this journey 
dates a warm friendship between the Jesuit and the 
philosopher. 



196 



NAMES THAT LIVE. 



Charles Carroll having returned to Maryland, first pay- 
ing a visit to Washington, then to New York, entered 
heart and soul into the plans for the coming contest. 
And it must be remarked that his cousin, the future 
Archbishop, was a no less sincere and enlightened pat- 
riot. It would have been hard indeed for such generous 
and noble breasts as theirs to remain unmoved. The cry 
of freedom was going up from the heart of that vast con- 
tinent, the broad rolling streams of which, the lofty 
mountains and unconfined vastness of whose prairie 
lands, seemed incompatible with any other idea than that 
of liberty. But here let us mark the difference: liberty 
might look down and smile; there were no bloody mas- 
sacres to be done in her name, no established order of 
things to be overthrown, no anarchy to be produced, no 
injustice, no rapine, no robbery; simply there was to be 
a just and noble struggle, in which no right of humanity, 
no sacred authority was to be violated. It was for the 
defence and freedom of that native land, which had 
grown dearer and more hallowed from the toils and dan- 
gers and hardships suffered there in those sturdy, vigor- 
ous pioneer days. 

Soon after his return from Canada, Charles Carroll 
was elected member of the Continental Congress, where, 
as Bancroft remarks, "the disfranchised Catholics of 
Maryland saw in him the emblem of their disenthral- 
ment."* Proud title this, prouder even that that one 
which was to follow, for he was none too soon to 
take his place in that noble phalanx of heroes, the 
signers of the Declaration of Independence. For 1776 
was the immortal year, when freedom offered to the 
world .this spectacle of honest, sincere and enlightened 
patriots, assembling to frame and affix their signatures to 



* Bancroft's U. S. Hist., vok ix. 



CHARLES CARROLL OF CARROLLTON. 



that imperishable document, which in its significance 
and its results has had no parallel in history. It was 
upon the Fourth of July, that day of which John Adams 
thus speaks in a letter to his wife: 

" I am apt to believe that it will be celebrated by suc- 
ceeding generations as the great Anniversary Festival. 
It ought to be commemorated as the day of deliverance 
by solemn acts of devotion to God Almighty. It ought 
to be solemnized with pomp, shows, games, sports, guns, 
bells, bonfires and illuminations, from one end of the 
continent to the other, from this time forward forever." 

Of that glorious proclamation, which was that day 
given forth to the people of the United States, he thus 
speaks: 

" You will think me transported with enthusiasm, but 
I am not. I am well aware of the toil, the blood, the 
treasure that it will cost us to maintain this declaration, 
and support and defend these States. Yet through all the 
gloom I can see the rights of light and glory; I can see 
that the end is worth more than all the means, and that 
posterity will triumph, although you and I may rue, 
which I hope we shall not." 

It was an inspiring moment indeed. The vicinity of 
the old State House, Philadelphia, was a living mass of 
breathless, expectant beings. The city streets were 
crowded; the people were eager and excited. The very 
bell-ringer, at his post in the belfry of the building, 
had stationed his son below, bidding him tell him 
when the Declaration was passed. All morning long he 
stayed at his post, alternating between hope and fear, 
and sometimes exclaiming in despair, " They'll never, 
never do it." About two o'clock the report of the com- 
mittee was adopted, and it but remained for the signers 
to affix their names. There was not an instant's irreso- 
lution. With brave and lofty determination they advanced 



XAMES THAT LIVE. 



each in turn. No writing was clearer or more unfalter- 
ing than that of Charles Carroll. The slight incident, 
which has attached to his name a peculiar and enduring 
glory, occurred in thiswise: As he signed the paper, a 
voice, said to be that of Benjamin Franklin, spoke out: 
" There go millions," in allusion to his wealth. But a 
second voice, said, "No, he cannot be identified; there are 
many Charles Carrolls." 

This decided the patriot. He did not desire safety 
which could not be shared by his fellows. He advanced 
again, adding to his signature the significant appendage, 
" of Carrollton," remarking as he did so, " They cannot 
mistake me now." 

Noble words, noble scene, and worthy of the cause 
which these men served. Almost at the moment the lad 
stationed below clapped his hands, crying out to the 
bell-ringer, "Ring, ring!" There was a peal of joy such 
as the old man had never put into his bell before, and 
the wonderful news was proclaimed by that ancient bell 
which bore upon its sides the strangely appropriate in- 
scription, " Proclaim liberty throughout all the land, to 
all the inhabitants thereof." 

Such booming of cannon as there was after that, such 
cheering among the people, such lighting of bonfires, 
such congratulations and such wishing each other joy! 
Surely they forgot the dark and deadly struggle that had 
to come. They knew only that they were proclaimed 
"free, sovereign and independent States." In New York, 
bv order of General Washington, the decree of Congress 
was read at the head of every brigade in the army. 
The rejoicings there, as well as throughout the other colo- 
nies, were no less cordial and heartfelt. Yet it was only 
the first scene in a glorious but sanguinary drama. 

During the years that followed Mr. Carroll continued 
to serve his country in the arena of political life. He soon 



CHARLES CARROLL OF CARROLLTON. 



after retired from the Continental Congress, remaining 
there but two or three years after the Declaration. He, 
however, divided his time for many years to come be- 
tween the duties of State Senator in his native Maryland 
and those of United States Senator in Congress. His 
labors thenceforth were many and varied. Such men as 
he were, at this trying crisis of affairs, needed to stand in 
the breach. His political sagacity, clear judgment, long 
and varied experience of men and manners, his energy, 
his devotion to the cause, and his uncompromising hon- 
esty made him the man amongst men, to unite with his 
co-laborers in the formation of a just, solid and harmoni- 
ous form of government to suit the exigencies of the 
time and circumstances. Nor did he neglect meanwhile 
to identify himself closely with the movements of the 
Catholic party. Soon after the election of Washington 
to the Presidency, Mr. Carroll, in conjunction with his co- 
religionists, sent to him the following address, which we 
do not think it out of place to give here in full. 

Address of the Roman Catholics to George Washington, 
President of the United States : 
" Sir: — We have been long impatient to testify our joy 
and unbounded confidence on your being called, by a 
unanimous vote, to the first station of a country, in which 
that unanimity could not have been obtained without the 
previous merit of unexampled services, of eminent wis- 
dom and unblemished virtue. Our congratulations have 
not reached you sooner, because our scattered situation 
prevented the communication and the collecting of those 
sentiments which warmed every breast. But the delay 
has furnished us with the opportunity, not merely of pre- 
saging the happiness to be expected under your adminis- 
tration, but of bearing testimony to that which we expe- 
rience already. It is your peculiar talent in war and in 



200 



NAMES THAT LIVE. 



peace to afford security to those who commit their pro- 
tection into your hands. In war, you shield them from 
the ravages of armed hostility; in peace, you establish 
public tranquillity, by the justice and moderation, not less 
than by the vigor of your government. By example, as 
well as by vigilance, you extend the influence of laws on 
the manners of our fellow-citizens. You encourage re- 
spect for religion, and inculcate, by word and action, 
that principle on which the welfare of nations so much 
depends, that a superintending Providence governs the 
events of the world, and watches over the conduct of 
men. Your exalted maxims and unwearied attention to 
the moral and physical improvement of our country 
have produced already the happiest effects. Under your 
administration America is animated with zeal for the 
attainment and encouragement of useful literature; she 
improves her agriculture, extends her commerce, and ac- 
quires with foreign nations a dignity unknown to her be- 
fore. From these happy events, in which none can feel 
a warmer interest than ourselves, we derive additional 
pleasure by recollecting, that you, sir, have been the 
principal instrument in effecting so rapid a change in 
our political situation. This prospect of national pros- 
perity is peculiarly pleasing to us on another account, 
because, whilst our country preserves her freedom and 
independence, we shall have a well-founded title to claim 
from her justice, the equal rights of citizenship, as the 
price of our blood spilt under your eyes, and of our com- 
mon exertions for her defence, under your auspicious 
conduct; rights rendered more dear to us by the remem- 
brance of former hardships. When we pray for the preser- 
vation of them, where they have been granted, and expect 
the full extension of them from trie justice of those States, 
which still restrict them, when we solicit the protection 
of Heaven over our common country, we neither omit, nor 



CHARLES CARROLL OF CARROLL TON. 2 OI 

can omit, recommending your preservation to the singu- 
lar care of Divine Providence; because we conceive that 
no human means are so available to promote the welfare 
of the United States, or the prolongation of your health 
and life, in which are included the energy of your exam- 
ple, the wisdom of your counsels, and the persuasive elo- 
quence of your virtues. 

" In behalf of the Roman Catholic Clergy, 

" J. Carroll. 
" In behalf of the Roman Catholic Laity, 

" Charles Carroll of Carrollton, 
" Daniel Carroll, * 
" Thomas Fitzsimmons, 
" Dominick Lynch." 
In reply to this address, Washington wrote as follows: 

"To the Roman Catholics in the United States of America: 
"Gentlemen: — While I now receive with much satis- 
faction your congratulations on my being called, by a 
unanimous vote, to the first station in my country, I can- 
not but duly notice your politeness in offering an apology 
for the unavoidable delay. As that delay has given you 
an opportunity of realizing, instead of anticipating, the 
benefits of the general government, you will do me the 
justice to believe that your testimony of the increase of 
the public prosperity enhances the pleasure which I 
should otherwise have experienced from your affectionate 
address. I feel that my conduct, in war and in peace, 
has met with more general approbation than could 
reasonably have been expected; and I find myself dis- 
posed to consider that fortunate circumstance, in a great 
degree, resulting from the able support and extraordi- 
nary candor of my fellow-citizens of all denominations. 



A cousin of our hero. 



202 



NAMES THAT LIVE. 



" The prospect of national prosperity now before us is 
truly animating, and ought to excite the exertions of all 
good men to establish and secure the happiness of their 
country, in the permanent duration of its freedom and 
independence. America, under the smiles of a Divine 
Providence, the protection of a good government, and the 
cultivation of manners, morals and piety, cannot fail to 
attain an uncommon degree of eminence, in literature, 
commerce, agriculture, improvements at home, and re- 
spectability abroad. As mankind becomes more liberal, 
they will be more apt at all times to allow that all those 
who conduct themselves as worthy members of the com- 
munity are equally entitled to the protection of civil 
government. I hope ever to see America among the 
foremost nations in examples of justice and liberality. 
And I presume that your fellow-citizens will not forget 
the patriotic part which you took in the accomplishment 
of their revolution, or the establishment of their govern- 
ment, or the important assistance which they received 
from a nation in which the Roman Catholic faith is pro- 
fessed. 

" I thank you, gentlemen, for your kind concern for me. 
While my life and health shall continue, in whatever 
situation I may be, it shall be my constant endeavor to 
justify the favorable sentiments which you are pleased 
to express of my conduct. And may the members of 
your society in America, animated alone by the pure 
spirit of Christianity, and still conducting themselves as 
the faithful subjects of our free government, enjoy every 
temporal and spiritual felicity. 

"G. Washington." 

Now that, as we have said, the new Constitution was 
in gradual process of completion, Charles Carroll and 
the other Catholics of Maryland and the United States 



CHARLES CARROLL OF CARROLL TON, 



began to consider the necessity of obtaining some recog- 
nition from Congress of their religious rights. The 
vague and indefinite pronunciamento of Congress in 1775 
did not satisfy these true-hearted men, who foresaw a 
time when rights and liberties, dearer to them, and holier 
even than those for which they had so freely shed their 
blood, might be again imperilled. They were resolved 
to free their posterity from the curse of intolerance, the 
bitter fruits of which they had themselves tasted. Con- 
gress said, in 1775: "As our opposition to the settled 
plan of the British administration to enslave America 
will be strengthened by a union of all ranks of men 
within this province, we do most earnestly recommend 
that all former differences about religion or politics, and 
all private animosities and quarrels of every kind, from 
henceforth cease, and be forever buried in oblivion." 
This answered its purpose in 1775. but in 17S4 the Catho- 
lics of America wanted a more explicit and definite ac- 
knowledgment of their position. They were aware of 
their eminent services to the cause of independence, and 
felt themselves justified, by every title, in demanding 
recognition from the government. A memorial was 
consequently drawn up. signed and presented to Con- 
gress. Once again we find the name of Charles Carroll 
of Carrollton, ever foremost in every noble scheme, of 
his cousin the Archbishop, Dominick Lynch. George 
Meade, father of the late Major-General Meade of the 
United States Army, and Thomas Fitzsimmons, who are 
mentioned as the framers of this document. It was pre- 
sented to Congress principally through the exertions of 
Washington. That enlightened patriot and statesman 
was fully aware of the important services rendered by 
Catholics to the cause of independence, and of the im- 
policy of inviting disunion by a renewal of, the old 
spirit of intolerance. His personal esteem for many 



204 NAMES THA T LIVE. 



members of the Catholic party no doubt had its effect. 
His own body-guard was principally composed of Catho- 
lics, and he knew innumerable instances of their courage, 
patriotism and devotion. For the Carrolls personally it 
is said that Washington entertained the highest esteem, 
and when going from place to place, and met, as usual, 
by a band of patriots, Bishop Carroll's hand was always 
the first he grasped. The Hon. Mr. Custis, a nephew 
of Washington's, refers to the Archbishop as follows: 
" From his exalted worth as a minister of God, his stain- 
less character as a man, and above all, his distinguished 
services as a patriot of the Revolution, Dr. Carroll stood 
high, very high, in the esteem and affection of the Pater 
Patriae." And as to Charles Carroll, we know that 
Washington visited him at his manor, and on all occa- 
sons treated him with confidence and respect. 

The memorial and the efforts of the Catholics resulted 
in the Third Article of Amendment to the Constitution, 
namely, that " Congress shall make no law respecting 
the establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free 
exercise thereof." Surely an important concession, 
when seen in the light of past intolerance. Somewhere 
about the age of sixty-three Mr. Carroll retired from 
public life. Thenceforth it is our privilege to see him 
in the calm seclusion of his home, where he devoted his 
time to private affairs, and the pursuit of elegant learn- 
ing and classical literature. Need we say that the pupil 
of St. Omer and of Louis le Grand was an accomplished 
scholar ? He delighted in the study of the classics, find- 
ing in them, as it were, a rich mine of intellectual de- 
lights, and was known to say, "After the Bible read 
Cicero." 

These latter years of the veteran statesman's life form 
a charming picture. He dwelt at the old Manor House, 
which was furnished and appointed with a luxury and 



CHARLES CARROLL OF CARROLL TOA T . 



205 



comfort to which those early colonial days were no 
strangers. Speaking of a date much anterior to this an 
esteemed correspondent * tells us that the larger cities 
of the colonies "were almost on a par with London, 
certainly with any other English city, in luxury, dress, 
etc. You know," he continues, "it was the reports of 
the English officers, in regard to the elegance of living 
which they witnessed, which led to the taxation of the 
colonies, and this, again, to the Revolution. The cos- 
tumes were those of the English of the same period, 
certainly not more than a few months behind the ex- 
tremes of the fashion. Remember, I am speaking of 
people in good circumstances, which remark extends to 
all the patentees or large landholders on their manors or 
holdings" 

Of manners, he says, " There was a great deal more 
dignity than at present. It was yet the era of the Min- 
uet." 

" In person," says another correspondent, " Mr. Carroll 
was slight and rather below the middle size. His face 
was strongly marked, his eye quick and piercing, his 
manners easy, affable, and graceful, while in all the ele- 
gancies of polite life few men were his superiors." A 
portrait of him can be seen in the Rotunda at Wash- 
ington, as also in Independence Hall, Philadelphia, 
where each of the signers hangs upon the wall, silent for 
evermore, but still forcibly attesting their convictions. 

The Doughoregan Manor, as it now stands, is one of 
those true old Southern mansions which has been built and 
added to by several succeeding generations, until at this 
date it presents a large, wide front. It is beautifully sit- 
uated in the midst of richly cultivated fields and orchards, 



* Gen. J. Watts de Peyster. The extract above quoted is from a 
letter of his to the author, Nov. 5, 1878. 



206 



NAMES THA T LIVE. 



with splendid woods behind, and it is through these 
woods that a broad and spacious avenue winds up from 
the Lodge. The several parts of the building now form 
a pleasing whole. At one end is a pretty little chapel, 
St. Mary's, the silvery bell of which is heard on Sundays, 
calling all at the distant " Quarter" to Mass. The chapel 
seats about three hundred, and is principally for the use 
of the family and people of the estate, although the 
neighboring families also attend there. The walls are 
frescoed, with panels of blue ; the windows are of 
stained glass ; the altar is of white marble, brought from 
Italy by the late Colonel Carroll, father of the present 
resident and proprietor, Hon. John Lee Carroll. At 
either side are handsome marble tablets sacred to the 
memory of deceased members of the family. A white 
marble slab is likewise let into the floor of the aisle. A 
very fine painting, " Christ Curing the Sick and Maimed 
at the Gate of the Temple," hangs over the altar, while 
to the left, just above the seats occupied by the family, 
is an exquisite copy of Murillo's Immaculate Conception. 

The wing at the other end of the building, correspond- 
ing to that in which is the chapel, has a billiard-room, 
and above are the servants' apartments. The centre and 
oldest part contains drawing-rooms and dining-rooms, 
where George Washington and most of the signers were 
entertained. They are all panelled and hung with family 
pictures from the very first Carroll down to the last. 
Other valuable portraits likewise adorn the walls. These 
rooms, as well as the library, boudoir, hall, and staircase 
are exactly as they were in the signer's time. The rest 
of the house is more modern both in style and furniture, 
but yet all full of quaint and historical remembrances. 
At front and back are two wide porticos with pillars and 
floor of gray and white marble. At the back this portico 
extends the whole length in a wide veranda, and over- 



CHARLES CARROLL OF CARROLL TON. 



looks an exquisite lawn, laid out in terraces, smooth 
spreading lawns, and flower-beds, but especially beauti- 
fied by fine old trees, which lift their lofty heads to the 
heavens. Two giant catalpas and two ancient weeping- 
willows particularly attract the eye. They are the more 
deserving of notice that they were planted by the two 
daughters of Charles Carroll, when they were quite 
young, and still bear their names, Catherine and Mary. 
Beyond this lawn the eye loses itself in green meadows 
and corn-fields, with a background of forest trees. 

In front the carriage-drive sweeps round a wide circle, 
the only ornament of which is four magnificent old trees, 
locust and elm, besides some palms and Australian ferns 
in the summer-time. Sloping down beyond the circle is 
an avenue of locust-trees leading to the " Quarter," which 
lies below, hidden by a delightful grove. This is quite a 
village, inhabited by the colored people belonging to the 
manor, and who, now no longer slaves, still prefer re- 
maining with the old family. In the house are several 
of the older hands who still remember the signer very 
well. In his lifetime there were upwards of a thousand 
slaves upon the estate. At the Manor Mr. Carroll is 
never known but as " The Signer." Every one, grand- 
children, servants, and all, calls him so.* 

There is no doubt that the Revolution, and the causes 
leading thereto, may have put a check upon a luxury, 
especially in dress, which under the circumstances would 
have been ill-timed and misplaced. The receptions of 
Washington may have been graced as often by the home- 
spun garment, as by the exquisitely fine English cloth 



* The account of the Manor and other valuable information was sent 
through a kind and valued friend, now residing with the Carroll family, 
and the letters which appear on page 213 through the courtesy of Hon. 
John Lee Carroll, to both of whom the author returns thanks. 



208 



NAMES THAT LIVE. 



of other days, and it is not unlikely that the stiff broid- 
eries, the plush and brocade, and all the gorgeousness 
of apparel, which marked the Paris of Louis XV., and 
found its way to the colonies, may have gradually fallen 
into discredit and disuse, under a form of government 
whose boast must henceforth be its simplicity. But we 
know that under the regime of the first two or three 
Presidents there was a strong flavor of old-world punc- 
tiliousness, and courtliness of dress and manners, which 
democratic theories and even practices were powerless 
to destroy. Such a flavor remained likewise about the 
old manor houses, like subtle aromas from long withered 
herbs, and it lent a poetry and a pomp and a stateliness 
to the declining years of the venerable patriot, which 
seem most in harmony with his life and character. He 
was healthy for those days, and the appointments of his 
Manor of Doughoregan were all of the handsomest and 
most luxurious. His household consisted of some two 
hundred and eighty-five slaves, the linen and other articles 
of domestic use were imported direct from England,* as 
well as the clothing for the family. In such surround- 
ings grew to womanhood the two daughters of Mr. Car- 
roll, one of whom, Mrs. Caton, was the mother of the 
three beautiful sisters who became historical as "the 
American graces." Mrs. Patterson, (Mary Caton), f the 
eldest, who afterwards married the Marquis of Wel- 
lesley, brother to the Duke of Wellington, was the hand- 
somest and most celebrated of the graces. It was of 
her that the Prince Regent, afterwards George the 
Fourth, exclaimed, " Is it possible that the world can 
produce so beautiful a woman ?" The Marquis was, at 
the time of his marriage, Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, 



* Up to the time of the Revolution at least. 

f Sister-in-law to the wife of Jerome Bonaparte. 



CHARLES CARROLL OF CARROLLTON. 



209 



and his young American bride was called upon to pre- 
side over a country, where the people were charmed to 
see "the Lord Lieutenant's lady attending chapel." 
Strange sight indeed there, whence her ancestors had 
fled by reason of their faith. She ruled right royally; 
and, according to an account given by an eye-witness of 
her first ball at the Castle, appeared " every inch a queen." 
"Certainly," continued he, "no other court in Europe 
could have produced a woman of greater elegance or 
more accomplished manners than the American Queen 
of the Irish Court." Her sisters, Elizabeth and Louisa 
Caton, became, respectively, Elizabeth, Lady Stafford, 
and Louisa, Lady Hervey, afterwards Duchess of Leeds. 
All England bent before their fresh new beauty, which 
rested like a crown upon the peerless sisters. But let us 
observe that contemporaries unanimously describe them 
as women who, amid all the licentiousness of the time, 
" stand out in brilliant contrast in all the sweet enchant- 
ment of purest womanhood." Their "irreproachable 
conduct " was no less the subject of admiration than 
their beauty. Lady Wellesley, who, afterwards became 
First Lady-in-Waiting at Windsor Castle, in the reign 
of William Fourth, when her husband was Comptroller of 
the Household, was " admired excessively by the king, 
because of her freedom from all court gallantry." * They 
were in a word true Catholic ladies, worthy of the race 
from which they sprung. 

Meanwhile, far off there in America, their grandfather 
was receiving the homage of his fellow-citizens, and go- 
ing down the decline of years with the serene majesty that 
" life in its Holy Saturday" lends to such as he. " In 
the life of Charles Carroll," says a biographer,! " we 



*For details on this subject, see Harper's Monthly, Sept., 1880. 
f L. C. Judson, in his Biography of the Signers of Independence. 



210 



NAMES THAT LIVE. 



have an example worthy the imitation of youth, of man- 
hood, of old age; of the lawyer, the statesman, the patriot 
and the Christian. His career was guided by virtue and 
prudence; his every action marked with honesty, frank- 
ness and integrity; richly meriting and largely receiving 
the esteem and veneration of a nation of Freemen." 

All the distinguished men of his day visited him at 
Doughoregan, eager to see and to converse with the late 
relic of a so glorious day; hither came the courtly, grave 
and gentle Washington, not unwilling to exchange 
reminiscences with this pillar of the people's rights; 
hither came the brilliant Lafayette, the hero of the 
French Court of that day, the admired even of the beau- 
tiful queen: hither came foreign ambassadors, and men 
of note, travelling merely for pleasure; and hither came 
generals, senators, statesmen and officers, both naval and 
military, who had had each their part in that fierce and 
mighty struggle, and now came, in the calmness of peace 
and prosperity, to speak of it as of a something past. 
Jefferson, Adams. Hancock. Monroe, Franklin, all met 
betimes in that ancient drawing-room, and in the courtly 
parlance, dress and manner of the day. discoursed upon 
what had been and was to be. The conversation of Mr. 
Carroll must, indeed, have been of great and varied inter- 
est: for besides his store of anecdotes relating to the 
early colonial times, and the rough pioneer days, mem- 
orv must have frequently led him backwards to recollec- 
tions of life in Europe, episodes of his stay at that seat 
of learning and chivalry, the College of Louis le Grand. 
We can imagine that often the mention of a name re- 
called to him scenes in which he had been an actor, or 
that distinguished men in England or on the Continent 
were remembered by him as old schoolmates, or fellow- 
students at law. 

In the usual course of human affairs " the sun of glory 



CHARLES CARROLL OF CARROLL TON. 



211 



shines but on the tomb of greatness." But not so with 
Charles Carroll. He received innumerable testimonies 
of the esteem in which he was held by his countrymen. 
" The good and great made pilgrimages to his dwelling 
to behold with their own eyes the venerable political 
patriarch of America." Mr. Carroll's home was one of 
the great social centres of the day, as we have already 
shown; its courtly and cordial hospitality was proverbial; 
there wit, intellect and fashion met on equal terms; the 
conversations were sprightly and brilliant, yet dignified 
and stately. Charles Carroll upon one occasion received a 
deputation from the assembled Catholic Bishops of the 
First Council of Baltimore. This was a mark of respect 
which he appreciated above all others. It touched him 
deeply, and appealed to that loyal, generous heart of 
his, which had been equally true to his country, his re- 
ligion and his God. For this model citizen, this incor- 
ruptible patriot, was also a model Catholic, a devout 
child of Holy Church. He delighted to adorn the 
chapel attached to his dwelling, which was richly and 
tastefully ornamented.* He was present every day at 
the Divine Sacrifice, and usually served Mass himself 
until he was over eighty years of age. He jealously 
guarded this privilege, and would suffer none to en- 
croach upon it, for he held it as his highest honor. His 
library was composed in great part of works of piety. 
Milner's End of Controversy is spoken of by biographers 
as one of his favorite books. Bossuet's History of the 
Variations of Protestant Churches, and the x\bbe Mc- 
Geoghan's History of Ireland, had also a conspicuous 
place upon the shelves. 

* The author remembers hearing the late illustrious Dr. Brownson 
describe an occasion upon which he heard Mass in the Carroll Chapel, 
at the manor. He spoke of it as most impressive, the family devoutly- 
assembled, and the colored slaves to form a background. 



212 



NAMES THAT LIVE. 



In June of the year 1824, John Quincy Adams sent 
him, at the hands of Congress, two fac-simile copies of 
the original Declaration of Independence. The letter 
accompanying it so fully displays the sentiments of the 
American people in his regard, that we transcribe it ver- 
batim. 

u To Charles Carroll of Carrollton .- 

" Sir : In pursuance of a joint resolution of the two 
Houses of Congress, a copy of which is hereto annexed, 
and by direction of the President of the United States, 
I have the honor of transmitting to you two fac-simile 
copies of the original Declaration of Independence, en- 
grossed on parchments, conformable to a secret resolu- 
tion of Congress, of July 19, 1776, to be signed by every 
member of Congress, and accordingly signed on the 2d 
day of August of the same year. Of this document, un- 
paralleled in the history of mankind, the original, de- 
posited in this department, exhibits your name as one of 
the subscribers. The rolls herewith transmitted are 
exact copies, as exact as the art engraving can pre- 
sent, of the instrument of itself, as well as of the signers 
to it. While performing the duty thus assigned me, per- 
mit me to felicitate you, and the country, which is reap- 
ing the reward of your labors, as well that your hand 
was affixed to that record of glory, as that after the lapse 
of nearly half a century, you live to receive this tribute 
of gratitude from your children, the present fathers of 
the land. 

"With every sentiment of veneration, I have the honor 
of subscribing myself, 

" Your fellow-citizen, 

"John Quincy Adams." 

This great and good man gives us an admirable epit- 
ome of his life, in those words, which have become 



CHARLES CARROLL OF CARROLLTON. 



213 



almost as well known as his famous utterance upon the 
occasion of the signing of the Declaration : 

" I have lived," says he, " to my ninety-sixth year ; I 
have enjoyed continued health ; I have been blessed with 
great wealth, prosperity, and most of the good things 
which the world can bestow : public approbation, es- 
teem, applause ; but what I now look back upon with 
the greatest satisfaction to myself, is that I have prac- 
tised the duties of my religion." Grander words these 
than any he had spoken throughout a long and truly 
eventful career. 

The following extracts from two letters to his son 
will serve to give a further insight into the truly pious 
and Christian sentiments which animated this model 
gentleman. 

"April 12, 1821, 

" In writing to you I deem it my duty to call your at- 
tention to the shortness of this life, the certainty of death, 
and of that dread judgment which we must all undergo, 
and on the decision of which a happy or a miserable 
eternity depends. The impious man said in his heart, 
' There is no God.' He would willingly believe there is 
no God; his passions, the corruption of his heart, would 
fain persuade him that there is not; the stings of con- 
science betray the emptiness of the delusion; the heavens 
proclaim the existence of God, and unperverted reason 
teaches that He must love virtue and hate vice, and re- 
ward the one and punish the other." 

"We should not set our hearts too much on anything 
in this world, since everything in it is so precarious, as 
health, riches, power, talents, etc., of which disease, revo- 
lution, or death can deprive us in a moment. Virtue 
alone is subject to no vicissitudes. In the hour of death, 
when the emptiness of all worldly attachments is felt, it 



2I 4 



NAMES THAT LIVE. 



alone will console us, and while we live soften the calami- 
ties of life and teach us to bear them with resignation 
and fortitude." 

Mr. Carroll gave practical proof of his piety and devo- 
tion to the Church by his many generous donations in 
the cause of religion. His old historic home at Annapo- 
lis, round which memories cluster thick as leaves in an 
autumn forest, he made a present to the Jesuit Fathers, 
while his old home in Baltimore he bestowed upon a 
community of nuns. He also gave the ground for the 
present College of St. Charles, which stands just opposite 
the Lodge and is used by the Sulpician Fathers as pre- 
paratory to their Seminary of St. Sulpice. 

What may be called the last public event in his life 
now approached. America was holding the golden 
jubilee of her independence, and but three of " the 
signers" lived, Charles Carroll, Thomas Jefferson, John 
Adams. Fifty years had passed, with all their vicissi- 
tudes, since they had stood in the face of the nation, the 
mouthpiece of a sacred cause. Children, who were in- 
fants then, had grown to manhood ; men, who, in the 
flush of youth, had waited, eager and expectant, the 
result of that immortal conference, were now bent and 
grey. But, towering above them all in the majesty of 
their years and honors, were these venerable three. For 
the last time. The sun of that July day bore with it the 
souls of Jefferson and Adams. Charles Carroll was alone. 
He had outlived them all ; he had seen generation after 
generation pass away. He was the sole relic, the rem- 
nant of that hallowed past. On the occasion of the 
golden jubilee a banquet was given in Charleston, and 
Bishop England proposed the toast : " To Charles Car- 
roll of Carrollton — in the land from which his grand- 
father fled in terror, his granddaughter now reigns a 
queen." 



CHARLES CARROLL OF CARROLL TON. 



215 



But death, which had long spared this stately figure, 
came at last. It was in November of the year 1832, 
He had some time previously returned to his town house, 
in Lombard Street, Baltimore, so that it was there he 
passed away. He was attended to the last by his con- 
fessor, Father Chanche. His last moments were edifying 
and impressive in the highest degree, the fitting close to 
a life spent in the love and fear of God, and the service 
of his fellows. His household was assembled, children, 
grandchildren, and even his negro slaves. Seated in a 
chair, he received the Blessed Sacrament, humbly and 
reverently, as became the Christian. Though aware that 
his end was approaching, and already overcome by weak- 
ness, he fasted until he had received the Body of his 
Lord. Immediately after he was laid upon the bed, and 
did not long survive the change of position. His soul 
took its flight so tranquilly that the attendants scarcely 
knew it had gone. 

We extract the following from a contemporary article 
upon his death: * " Carroll is in the tomb. But he shall 
not wholly die. No. The sceptre of the monarch, the 
glittering diadem, and the purple of the monarch shall 
moulder at the solemn mockeries of liberty, and their 
pageants be forgotten. But not so with the patriarch. 
Whilst gratitude shall swell the bosom of republics 
whilst the flag of our own confederacy shall wave on the 
outward wall of our Capitol, Carroll shall live, not alone 
on the canvas or in marble bust, but in the memory of 
virtuous freemen. His name, with that of Hancock, 
Franklin and Washington, shall in after ages be hymned 
to the lyre of the minstrel ; whilst the muse of history 



*In the Ave Maria, May, 1881, we find the notice taken from a 
little paper, The United States Catholic Miscellany, published at the 
time of Mr. Carroll's death. 



2l6 



NAMES THAT LIVE. 



shall point to the bright quaternion as the fadeless mon- 
ument of American wisdom in the cabinet, and valor in 
the field. 

" The devotion of the venerable patriot to the princi- 
ples of freedom was only equalled by his adherence to 
the altars of his fathers. The memorable oath of 1 Life, 
Fortune and Sacred Hojior ' well attested the one ; as a 
Catholic, his practical piety and unsullied morality well 
proved the other. The blended rays of both shed a halo 
round his name while living ; sweetly tempered the 
evening of his virtuous life, till, the object of the venera- 
tion of twelve millions of freemen, he tranquilly breathes 
his spirit to his God, and consigns his remains to the 
tomb of his ancestors." 

If the sentiment seem to us exaggerated in its expres- 
sion, it only proves that he had in truth the nation for 
his mourners. From one end of the continent to the 
other poured in testimonies of grief and respect. 
Church and State alike bewailed his loss ; the Cath- 
olic Church in America had lost one of its pioneers and 
pillars, a true old Catholic gentleman, with the knight- 
ly spirit that even in his day had still a certain ascen- 
dency strong within him. The pupil of the Jesuits, 
the student of that home of science and of chivalry, the 
college of Louis le Grand, the wise statesman and framer 
of laws, the logical, forcible and elegant writer, the dig- 
nified and impressive orator, the ardent patriot, the 
zealous Catholic had passed away from the shores of his 
native Maryland, not into the " ozternum exilium" of the 
poet, but unto* the shores of his new country. He, who 
had outlived all the others, followed them in turn to a 
common resting-place, where the nation, with a sob of 
anguish, threw the earth upon the grave of the " Last 
of the Signers." 



" Of ancient name, and knightly fame, 
And chivalrous degree" 

" Amid the foremost of the embattled train, 
Lof the young hero hails the glowing fight / 
And though the troops around him press the plain, 
Still fronts the foe, nor brooks inglorious flight. 

The young, the old, alike, commingling tears, 
His country's heavy grief bedews the grave! 
And all his race in verdant lustre wears, 
Fame's richest wreath, tra7ismitted by the brave. 

Though mixed with earth, imperishable clay, 
His name shall live, while glory loves to tell, 

True to his country, how he won the day, 
How firm the hero stood, how calm he fell!" 1 

Tyrtaeus. 



The Hero of La Vendee. 

ISBN the year 1772, at the ancestral castle of Dur- 
gl belieres, near Chatillon-sur-Sevre, in Poitou, 
m51 was born Henri de Larochejaquelein. His 
father was a colonel in the royal Polish artillery, and 
had no prouder ambition for his son than that he should 
likewise be a soldier. Hence Henri was early sent to 
the military school at Soreze to be taught the arts of 
war and the whole system of military tactics. At this 
time he is described as a slight, soldierly, and graceful 
youth; his frank and gentle face strongly marked by 
the innate nobility of his soul, no less than by the out- 
ward tokens of that nobility to which the accident of 
birth entitled him. His eyes were the most remarkable 
feature of his face: dark, and yet intensely bright — 
bright w T ith that immortal spark which urged him to his 
high destiny of fame and early death. 

He was then sixteen years of age, and time had dealt 
gently with him. He chased the deer through the 
green forests of his native Poitou, beside her winding 
streams and over her broad fields, while friends and com- 
rades looked w T ith envy upon his skilful horsemanship, 
for which he was even then remarkable. 

But the smiling landscape passed from sight. A day 
of horror had come for France. The leaders of the Rev- 
olution had unleashed their bloodhounds, w r ho, fiercely 





220 



NAMES THAT LIVE. 



following the scent, rushed abroad through the ver- 
dant fields, the pleasant homes, and kingly palaces of 
regal France. The kingdom of Sully, of Richelieu, of 
Louis XIV., and of Henry of Navarre was ruled by the 
lowest and vilest, the feeblest and most irresolute, strong 
only in cruelty and bloodshed. Robespierre and his 
execrable associates held the sceptre of St. Louis and 
sat upon the throne of many a glorious race of kings. 
The halls wherein the golden-tongued orators, Bourda- 
loue and Massillon, poured forth words of burning elo- 
quence; the council-chambers in which the Louvois and 
the Colberts devised great schemes for their country's 
glory; the armies once led to victory by the Turennes and 
the Luxembourgs; the cities in which every fair and gra- 
cious thing was gathered to enrich and beautify the 
dwellings of the people; the plains whereon Clovis, 
heaven-inspired, became heir to a kingdom mightier 
than that of France, — all were polluted by the presence 
and the acts of base and unprincipled men. 

Human life was as a feather, to be blown from their 
path by the breath of anger or resentment. Gray-haired 
sires were trampled in the same dust where childhood 
and innocence lay weltering in the bright heart's-blood 
of youth. Vested priests were torn from the sanctuary, 
and dragged forth to end their blameless lives at the 
guillotine; churches were entered by bands of armed ruf- 
fians, who, in their mad unbelief, saw not the thunder- 
bolts of the Most High trembling above their heads. 
That land so rich in divine favors was now a prey to 
these awful workings of woe and terror. Like the men 
of old in the country of the Gadarenes, her people be- 
sought of heaven to withdraw its importunate blessings, 
and raising their second Babel, the Temple of Reason, 
as did the degenerate descendants of Adam in times of 
yore, God sent upon them confusion of speech, and, 



HENRI DE LAROCHEJA Q UELEIN. 221 



knowing not each man his brother, they fell upon and 
slew each other. 

Henri de la Larochejaquelein was then, as we have 
said, about sixteen years of age, when the terrible storm 
overshadowing his native land drew him forth from 
childhood's green and sheltered places to take his rank 
among its foremost defenders. The life of the king was 
already threatened, and our hero, inspired with the loy- 
alty which had come down to him amongst the heir- 
looms of his race, hastened to Paris to enroll himself in 
the Constitutional Guard. But the awful ioth of Au- 
gust came, when Louis, who had still some faithful arms 
to strike a blow for God, for king, for country, gave 
himself up by an act of misplaced confidence, with his 
wife, children, and attendants, into the hands of the 
National Assembly. " I am come into your midst," he 
said, "to prevent a great crime." Alas! he could not 
foresee the future, when the sin of regicide would call 
down a deeper vengeance upon their heads. 

Needless to dwell upon these harrowing scenes; the 
poor king's trust in the affection of his people; his grief 
and regret when he heard a discharge of artillery di- 
rected against that cruel mob which twenty-four hours 
later condemned him, with his wife, children, and his 
sister, Madame Elizabeth, to the prison of the Temple. 
There he remained for many months; that gentle and 
gracious king whose grave, sad face, so full of mournful 
resignation, has come down through the intervening 
years, haunting France and the world like a pale ghost. 
And that queen whose hair, once the hue of molten 
gold, was turned amid those prison horrors into snowy 
white; whose face, the delight of kings and courts, was 
now pale and wan with deadly sorrow; whose eyes, 
once sparkling with hope and delight, had grown dull 
and sad with the mists of despair; whose step y now 



222 



NAMES THAT LIVE. 



heavy and slow, once bounded over Trianon's flowery 
sod, or trod with graceful dignity the princely halls, 
which were for her so many paces, from childhood in an 
Austrian palace, to her death upon a scaffold. 

Here, then, was a touching appeal to chivalry, and 
Larochejaquelein felt that he must be up and doing; must 
stand among the few loyal ones that formed an outwork 
round the king — an outwork stanch and true indeed, 
but too fatally " near the citadel." In Paris, however, 
his presence was of no avail, and the young hero re- 
turned to Poitou, crying: 

" I go to my native province, whence they shall hear of 
me before long." 

We may remark incidentally here that never, perhaps, 
does the history of any conflict present such extremes 
of nobility and degradation, of vice and exalted sanc- 
tity. Never, to our thinking, in the annals of the world, 
occurs a finer episode than that of the 4th January, 
1791, when the ecclesiastical members of the National 
Assembly were called upon to take the oath of defec- 
tion. There was a mob, drunk with blood, at the poor, 
crying: "Death to the priests who will not take the 
oath!" There were human tigers within ready to spring 
upon their prey. The Convention summoned them in- 
dividually. The first called was M. de Bonnac, Bishop 
of Agen. 

"Gentlemen," answered he, "the sacrifice of wealth is 
of little moment to me; but there is one sacrifice which 
I cannot make — that of your respect and my faith. I 
should be too sure of losing both did I take the oath re- 
quired of me." 

M. de Saint Aulaire, Bishop of Poitiers, followed. 

" Gentlemen," said he, " I am seventy years old. I 
have spent thirty-three in the episcopate, and I shall not 



HENRI DE LAROCHEJA Q UELEIN. 



now disgrace myself, by taking the oath required by 
your decrees. I will not swear." 

The whole body of the clergymen on the right loudly 
applauded his words. The Convention then summoned 
them collectively as follows: 

" Let those ecclesiastics who have not yet taken the 
oath rise and come forward to swear." 

There was silence within, rendered awful by the horrid 
cries of Death at the door. Not an ecclesiastic upon the 
right moved. There were three hundred members of 
the Convention; only twenty had seceded. 

Meantime Larochejaquelein remained at Clisson 
with his friend and kinsman, the noble Lescure, after- 
wards one of the great leaders in the war of La Vendee. 
Meanwhile we shall glance at the origin of this struggle 
and the causes for the deep loyalty of the Vendean 
people. 

The lords and commons of these western provinces 
of France had always lived in perfect harmony. Hence 
the latter, never feeling themselves oppressed, took no 
part in the widespread and revolting measures of the 
revolutionists. They loved and respected the king, and 
had no abuses of which to complain amongst the nobles. 
Moreover, being in complete submission to the laws of 
the Church, they shunned all intercourse with Illumi- 
nati or Carbonari, and despised or feared alike the doc- 
trines of the socialist or nihilist. When the revolution- 
ary movement began to be felt in France these people 
remained tranquilly in their homes unallured by visions 
of false liberty, and willing in all sincerity to render to 
Caesar that which is Caesar's. 

Yet, when the first rumblings of the storm began to 
be heard in La Vendee, the peasants in their cabins 
around their fires of peat began to whisper the legend 



224 



NAMES THAT LIVE. 



which had come down to them from their fathers. It 
was said that once the blessed Grignon de Mcntfort, 
founder of the missionaries of St. Laurent-sur-Sevre, 
came to preach a mission in Bressuire. When the mis- 
sion was over and the priest about to depart, he stood a 
moment in deep thought before a large stone cross. 
Suddenly he cried out : 

" Brethren, for the punishment of sinners God will 
one day send into all this region a horrible war. Blood 
shall be shed; men shall be slain; the whole country 
shall be ravaged. These things shall come to pass 
when my cross is covered with moss." 

The holy missionary departed; the hymns that had 
been sung at the mission service died away upon the 
Vendean air; but deep down in the hearts of the people 
dwelt this prophecy. Years passed on silently and 
swiftly; old men alone remembered the preacher's 
words, and in many a fireside chat related it, with the 
garrulousness of age, to their children and their chil- 
dren's children. All the while the soft green moss was 
stealing up the stony sides of the cross, covering it 
quietly, noiselessly, and surely, as time covers the surface 
of the earth with new-made graves. People passing the 
cross began to mutter with ominous shake of the head 
that the moss was creeping up. In 1793, when the 
storm had fairly burst over the land, the cross stood 
completely covered as in a garment of velvet green. * 

Undismayed by the failure of their first rising at Bres- 
suire, for they had risen, roused by the danger of their 
king to take part in the deadly struggle that was raging 
throughout France, the peasantry began to look abroad 
for leaders. Bonchamps, Charette, StofBet, and d'Elbee 



* History of the War in La Vendee. Life of Blessed Grignon de 
Montfort. 



HENRI DE LA R 0 CHEJA Q UELEIN. 



225 



appeared upon the scene. But in the centre of the 
Bocage territory were numbers of royalists willing and 
even anxious to strike a blow in the good cause, if they 
only had a leader. 

Larochejaquelein had meanwhile come out of his re- 
tirement at Clisson and joined the forces of Bonchamps 
and d'Elbee. Perceiving the need of a general rising in 
that portion of the country between Tiffauges and Cha- 
tillon, of which we have already spoken, he hastened to 
his own castle of St. Aubin to place himself at the head 
of the retainers and tenantry of his house. Badly 
armed, miserably undisciplined, poorly provisioned, they 
were wanting in everything but courage, trust in God, 
and a firm belief in the justice of their cause. 

Of these forces Larochejaquelein now took command 
and marched at once to Aubiers, where the republicans 
had entrenched themselves. Before setting out the 
young leader made a soul-stirring address to his sol- 
diers, concluding with the immortal words: 

" My friends, if my father were here, you would have 
confidence in him. I am only a boy, but by my courage 
I will show myself worthy to command you. If I ad- 
vance, follow me; if I flinch, cut me down; if I fall, 
avenge me!" * 

Loud and prolonged was the applause which greeted 
the boy orator; for at this time our hero was scarcely 
twenty years of age. Full of enthusiasm, his soldiers 
called upon him to lead them to Aubiers, where a party 
of republicans were quartered. 

An engagement took place there on the 13th of April. 
The enemy's forces were under the command of the cel- 
ebrated Quetineau. Larochejaquelein placed detach- 
ments at various points of attack, where they lay con- 



* Feller. Biographie Universelle. 



226 



NAMES THA T LI VE. 



cealed by hedges or shrubbery. He intrenched himself 
with the main body of his army in a garden, whence 
they made an assault upon Quetineau. The repub- 
lican soldiers at once fell into disorder, were defeated 
and obliged to retreat. 

Waving his sword above his head, Larochejaquelein 
rushed into the very thickest of the foe, shouting, " See, 
the Blues are flying. Charge!" 

Charge they did, and were left masters of the field, 
the enemy having deserted their artillery, arms, and am- 
munition. Taking possession of these, the Vendeans 
hastened to Chatillon and Tiffauges, where they shared 
them with new volunteers who ranged themselves under 
Larochejaquelein's standard. Thus was begun in tri- 
umph that career which was destined to be so brief and 
glorious. 

Lescure having left Clisson about this time in com- 
pany with his friend Marigny to levy troops, if possible, 
for the royal cause, met a band of mounted royalists, 
crying as they rode, " Vive le roi!" To his great surprise 
and delight he discovered their leader to be his young 
kinsman Larochejaquelein. Warmly they congratula- 
ted each other on being at last in the service of the king; 
but their greetings were necessarily short, and, exchang- 
ing a cordial God-speed, each hastened upon his way. 

The Vendean army now marched on to Thouars, a 
rock-built town upon the banks of the Thouet. It was 
among the most impregnable places in all that region, 
and was held by Quetineau with a considerable force. 
The royalist army advanced in four divisions, one being 
under the command of Larochejaquelein and his kins- 
man Lescure. They marched to Vrine, a village near 
Thouars. On a bridge of the same name a short but 
furious encounter took place. The ammunition failing, 
Larochejaquelein rode off to obtain supplies. In his 



HENRI DE LAROCHEJA Q UELEIN. 



absence Lescure, hoping to take the bridge, rushed down 
the slope, but found himself alone. Vainly he implored 
his soldiers to follow him; terror-stricken they remained 
as it were rooted to the spot. Suddenly a shout was 
heard, and Larochejaquelein was seen advancing at full 
gallop. With a simultaneous movement the whole force 
immediately rushed down the declivity and carried the 
bridge. 

The army was now drawn up in several divisions be- 
fore the walls of Thouars. Larochejaquelein began the 
escalade, calling upon his men to follow r him. There 
were no scaling-ladders at hand, yet some effort had to 
be made to reach the wails. Mounting on the shoulders 
of a brave peasant, Tixier de Courlai, Larochejaquelein 
gained the summit and with his own hands began to 
tear away the stones. A breach was thus effected, and 
the besiegers gained an entrance at the same moment 
that another division of the Vendean troops had bat- 
tered down the Pont-Neuf gate. The republicans at 
once laid down their arms and cried for quarter. To 
the lasting praise of the Vendeans, justly irritated as 
they were by a long course of cruelty and by provoca- 
tion of every kind, they acted with remarkable modera- 
tion, showing mercy to all the prisoners. Truth to 
tell, they were more occupied in giving thanks to God 
than in taking vengeance on their foes. At Thouars 
they obtained reinforcements either of volunteers from 
among the republican troops or of royalists who had 
been within the town. They also came into possession 
of a quantity of artillery and ammunition, which they 
so much needed. 

Having now gained some victories of minor impor- 
tance, they hastened on to Chatillon, where twenty 
thousand insurgents had assembled. It was on the 
23d of May. The royalists assisted at Mass in a 



228 



NAMES THA T LIVE. 



body, after which the Penitential Psalms were sung 
and the soldiers knelt to receive a last benediction. 
Lescure, full of martial ardor, rushed forward alone 
to cheer on his division. He was greeted with a vol- 
ley from the enemy's ranks which riddled his clothing 
and tore away his spurs. Undaunted he cried out. 
"See, the Blues do not know how to shoot!" The 
whole force now charged upon the enemy. In the very 
midst of the attack the}' knelt for a moment in prayer 
before a cross that stood in their way. Some of the 
officers objected, but Lescure interposed: " Let them 
pray," he said, "they will fight none the worse for it." 

The result of the combat remained for some time 
doubtful. The republicans bravely held their ground 
and disputed every inch of the field. But Larochejaque- 
lein with a few hundred men mounted on cart-horses 
turned the fortunes of the day by an irresistible charge. 
On they rushed, meeting and repulsing the enemy's 
cavalry. The onslaught was terrible; and the republi- 
cans, entirely defeated, laid down, their arms and re- 
treated in utter disorder. The royalists forthwith made 
themselves masters of Fontenay without the slightest 
opposition. 

It was just after this victory that the royalists resolved 
to appoint a supreme council of administration, of which 
the Abbe Bernier, Father Jugault. a Benedictine, and 
the Abbe Brin were the most distinguished members. 
Especially famous was the Abbe Bernier, better known 
as the Cure of St. Laud's. He was unquestionably 
one of the great leaders in the Yendean rising. The 
council after much deliberation sent a proclamation 
from the Catholic armies to the Convention in which 
they declared " La Vendee victorious; the Holy Cross of 
Jesus Christ and the royal standard everywhere tri- 
umphant over the bloody flag of anarchy;" and added 



HENRI DE LAROCHEJA Q UELEIN. 



that " La Vendee desired to keep forever the Holy Cath- 
olic, apostolic and Roman faith, and to have a king 
who would be a father within and a protector without." 

A comparison was drawn between the conduct of the 
Vendean and that of the republican army in their pro- 
gress through Brittany and the Bocage. However, this 
appeal was totally disregarded by the Convention. New 
generals were sent into La Vendee to carry on the war, 
and amongst them were the celebrated Santerre, and 
Westermann, who was known as the " Butcher of the 
Vendeans." 

The fortunes of the Vendeans were still, however, in 
the ascendant. They gained three important victories 
at Doue, Vihiers, and Montreuil. Concentrating their 
forces, they now marched on towards Saumur. Whilst 
Lescure was engaged at Fouchard Bridge, Cathelineau 
feigned an attack upon the castle, and Larochejaquelein 
led on his troops to surprise the enemy at Varin mead- 
ows. Leaving a small force to guard the Bridge of St. 
Just, which lay exactly in front of the enemy's camp, 
the young leader made an assault upon the rear. 
Throwing his cap over the ramparts, he cried: 

" Soldiers, who will get me my cap ?" 

So saying, he leaped over himself, followed tumultuously 
by his men, while almost simultaneously the royalists 
entered the town from the opposite side. A portion of 
the republican troops made a stanch resistance and at- 
tempted to hold the castle. Darkness came down upon 
the combat; but the Vendean leaders determined that at 
dawn the enemy should be driven from their strong- 
hold. When day broke it was discovered that the re- 
publicans had fled during the night from Saumur under 
cover of the darkness. Then did the harmonious clang 
of the bells delight the hearts of the soldiers; drums 
beat, clarions sounded shrill and high above the deafen- 



230 



NAMES THAT LIVE. 



ing shouts of " Vive la religion catholique!" "Vive le 
roi /" 

One of the churches of the city had been made into a 
storehouse by the republicans, and the spoils of battle 
were now placed therein. On the morning after the vic- 
tory Larochejaquelein was found standing as in deep 
reflection, with eyes cast down. A friend, approaching, 
asked him of what he was thinking. 

" I am lost in astonishment," replied the young leader, 
'"when I think of our success; it is clearly the hand of 
God." 

To Larochejaquelein was now consigned the some- 
what arduous post of keeping Saumur, which he did with 
equal courage and skill. It was on this occasion that 
the celebrated republican General Quetineau was taken 
prisoner. When he was afterwards released and sent to 
Paris, he died upon the scaffold, thus expiating his de- 
votion to a bad cause. Nor was his execution the only 
instance of ingratitude upon the part of the Convention. 

Meanwhile the Vendean army was making some im- 
portant movements. Charette succeeded in taking 
Machecoul; he had hitherto acted independently, but now 
formed a conjunction with the other royalist leaders; the 
bulk of their forces after this laid siege to Nantes, where 
they were defeated. There they lost Cathelineau, one of 
the most able as well as popular leaders. While the 
Vendeans were encamped, Westermann. the republican 
leader, was passing with fire and sword through the 
Bocage territory, burning, devastating, slaying. He re- 
duced to ashes the ancient chateau of Durbelieres, the 
birth-place of Larochejaquelein. 

The Vendeans were now divided into four divisions ; 
Lescure was appointed to the command of one, and at 
once chose his young kinsman as his lieutenant-general. 
At Erigny Larochejaquelein made a gallant fight, aided 



HEXRI DE LAROCHEJA Q UELEIN. 



by Bonchamps. He was struck by a ball, which carried 
away his thumb, but obstinately refused to leave the field, 
and ultimately won the day. A futile attempt was made 
by Lescure, Stofflet, and Larochejaquelein to cover Chatil- 
lon. The republicans were, however, in an immense 
majority, and the attempt was a failure in spite of the 
most determined bravery upon the part of the royalists. 
A bloody and desperate engagement took place, shortly 
before, between the Mayence men, under Kleber, and the 
Vendeans, under Bonchamps, d'Elbee, and Lescure, in 
conjunction with Charette and his gallant force. At sun- 
set the republicans were driven in disorder from the 
field. 

A plan of attack was now made to surprise the Blues 
on their march to Chollet. Lescure, who went out with 
a small force to reconnoitre, met the enemy in the avenue 
of Chateau la Tremblage, and at once gave battle. For- 
tune seemed to favor the royalists ; they fought with 
their customary valor, and in spite of the odds the day 
might have been won; but a ball entered the eye of their 
leader; the soldiers became disheartened, and finally fell 
back. Lescure was carried to Beaupreau. 

A movement was made on the 17th of October to sur- 
prise the republicans, now encamped before Beau- 
preau. Bonchamps and d'Elbee attacked the right wing, 
Larochejaquelein and Stofflet the centre; their vigor- 
ous charge completely broke the line. In vain did Kleber 
call upon the reserve force ; it is said they retreated 
without having fired a shot, so great was their terror of 
the "Brigands of La Vendee." Larochejaquelein and 
Stofflet, pursuing their advantage, seized upon a park of 
artillery and turned it against the foe. Already were the 
Blues upon the eve of flight, when Haxo, one of their 
leaders, by an adroit movement, attacked the royalists 
in the flank,. All thought of order or discipline was now 



232 



NAMES THAT LIVE, 



abandoned ; hand to hand, foot to foot, man to man, the 
opposing armies met. A panic spread among the peas- 
ants ; in vain their despairing leaders called upon them, 
for the honor of God, by their love of country, by the 
memory of their martyred brethren, to remain and, if 
need be, die with them. Larochejaquelein, d'Elbee, and 
Bonchamps, filled with superhuman courage, refused to 
abandon the field. A few hundred rallied round them, 
and with this handful of faithful souls they charged 
again. The opposing forces far outnumbered them ; 
they were surrounded on all sides; escape was impossible, 
and a glorious death was the only object of their hope. 
Night fell calmly and solemnly upon the tumult and dis- 
order of the scene ; upon the resolute faces of the men 
who had resolved to die as martyrs. 

Vainly did their blows fall thick and fast upon the 
enemy: vainly did they shout defiance into the very 
teeth of their opponents. Bonchamps lay wounded on 
the spot where, a moment before, d'Elbee had fallen. 
Larochejaquelein continued to cheer his comrades with 
words of hope, whispering of the after-life, which at that 
solemn hour seemed so near. When the last glimmer 
of light had faded from the landscape, and the last gleam 
of hope from the hearts of the Yendeans, one alone re- 
mained full of undaunted valor, and that was Henri de 
Larochejaquelein. Nothing could subdue his dauntless 
spirit, so strong, so full of life and hope and valor. A 
reinforcement arrived in time to save him and carry the 
wounded leaders to Beaupreau, where already Lescure 
lay stricken unto death. 

Utterly disheartened, the peasants proceeded in dis- 
order to St. Florent, hoping to effect the passage of the 
Loire. Their hearts were full of deadly hatred against 
the foe that had devastated their lands and left their once 
happy homes in ruins. They were still smarting, too. 



HENRI DE LARO CHE /A Q U ELEIN, 



under a sense of failure and defeat; and learning that 
four or five thousand republican prisoners were con- 
fined in an old church in the town, they would have 
massacred them but for the interposition of their leaders. 
A stormy meeting was held in the council-chamber; 
many of the leaders were in favor of condemning all the 
prisoners to instant execution, and thus acceding to the 
soldiers' demands. Lescure, who had been brought 
thither on a litter, raised his voice, feeble now with suffer- 
ing, and cried, " Horrible ! horrible !" But he was not 
heard, and already without in the streets the peasants, 
disregarding every authority, were pointing the cannon 
towards the church. Terror prevailed amongst the help- 
less republicans, not one of whom would, however, have 
hesitated under like circumstances to massacre his foe. 
But Bonchamps from his bed of death summoned the 
officers. 

He addressed himself to Autichamps, saying : 

" My friend, the last order I shall ever give you is that 
of saving the republicans. Tell me, I implore you, that 
it shall be done." 

Autichamps promised, and rushedfrom the apartment. 
He silenced the tumultuous soldiery by an effort, and he 
told them what Bonchamps, whose face was already gray 
with the shadows of death, had commanded. With one 
accord the peasants cried : 

"Quarter, quarter ! Bonchamps commands it." 

Before the quiet of another evening had fallen upon 
the town Bonchamps was at rest. Shortly before his 
death he received the Viaticum with extraordinary fervor. 
He had meted out mercy, and to him was mercy shown 
when, laying down his command, he appeared before the 
last tribunal. Over his grave at St. Florent stands his 
statue, and lower down upon the monument the record 
of that last heroic act of clemency: 



234 



NAMES THAT LIVE. 



" GRACE AUX PRISONNIERS! BONCHAMPS L'ORDONNE"* 

a fitting tribute to the noble and gentle qualities of the 
man. 

Larochejaquelein now made every effort to oppose 
the passage of the Loire, which he knew would in- 
evitably prove disastrous to the army in its present con- 
dition. But entreaty and remonstrance were alike un- 
availing; enfeebled by fatigue, half crazed with terror at 
the rumors which reached them of the cruelty of their 
foes, they rushed madly over that fatal river. Lescure, 
who had all along opposed the evacuation of La Vendee, 
permitted himself to be borne across, that he might spend 
the last moments of his life amongst the people whose 
cause he had so nobly espoused and gallantly supported. 
Larochejaquelein, at the suggestion of Lescure, was 
chosen commander-in-chief. With tears in his eyes he 
refused the honor, begging of them to elect one whose 
years and experience might the more readily inspire con- 
fidence. But Lescure persisted in declaring that he alone 
could restore the fallen fortunes of La Vendee, and the 
young soldier reluctantly accepted the arduous post of 
peril and of hardship. 

There was little doubt of his ability to fill this import- 
ant position. In age, it is true, he was the youngest of 
all the leaders of the rebellion; in judgment and experi- 
ence he must necessarily have been inferior to many of 
his seniors; although it is unquestionable that he fre- 
quently exhibited the knowledge and military skill of a 
great general. In personal courage he was unsurpassed; 
his valor was reckless, indomitable, and almost super- 
human. Yet, once the battle over, none gentler, more 
humane or generous than he. If he took a prisoner, he 
at once offered him the chance of single combat; while 



* " Mercy for the prisoners. It is Bonchamps' order." 



HENRI DE LA R O CHE J A Q UELEIN. 



235 



to the wounded, the dying, the helpless, the oppressed, 
he was a kind and resolute protector. In the council- 
chamber he was modest and even timid; yet on the rare 
occasions when he proffered advice, it was always good. 
When he was called upon for his opinion, he invariably 
replied: "Decide; I will execute." His motives were 
pure and lofty; no hope of gain or advancement ever 
quickened the beatings of his noble heart; his highest 
ambition was that, in the event of success, the king would 
give him command of a regiment of hussars. By the 
peasants he was fairly idolized; he was a leader after 
their own hearts; no royalist chief was ever so beloved 
as he. Every man would have drawn his sword and 
spilled his heart's best blood for " Master Henry," as they 
called him. 

Such was the character and such were the qualifications 
of the man who was now summoned to the chief com- 
mand of the Vendean army at the most critical moment 
of the campaign, when the sturdy hearts of the peasants 
were beginning to fail them, their arms to grow feeble, 
and their eyes to lose the olden fire. 

However, the royalists now pressed forward to Laval, 
defeating a republican force at Chateau-Gonthier on 
their way thither. A division of the Blues was in 
position near the city of Laval, and upon it the royalists 
charged. The enemy retreated, hotly pursued by La- 
rochejaquelein, who, in his impetuous ardor, did not 
perceive that he was alone. He was met in a narrow 
path by a republican, who at once attacked him with the 
utmost violence. Larochejaquelein was unarmed and 
partially disabled, one arm being quite helpless from a 
wound. Evading the blow, the hero rode up at full 
speed to the republican, threw him to the ground, and 
cried, whilst he prepared to defend himself against new 
assailants: 



236 



NAMES THAT LIVE. 



"Away, and tell your republicans that the royalist 
general, without weapons and with one arm disabled, 
threw you to the ground and then gave you your life." 
After which, putting spurs to his horse, he regained the 
camp. 

All this time Westermann was upon the track of 
the royalists. They surprised him about three leagues 
from Laval, and a severe skirmish took place. The bat- 
tle of Laval, which occurred before the heights of En- 
trances, was one of the most important of the campaign. 
Previous to the engagement, Lescure, who was dying, as 
it were, by inches, caused himself to be carried to a win- 
dow, whence he addressed the soldiers in a few impres- 
sive words, which, coming as they did from a beloved 
leader now upon the very verge of the grave, were not 
without their effect. Larochejaquelein also harangued 
them, dwelling upon all that could inflame their patriot- 
ism or their thirst for glory. He pointed out on the 
one hand fame and the consciousness of well-doing as 
their reward, and on the other martyrdom. 

The royal forces occupied the heights; the republicans, 
under Kleber and Westermann, advanced in formidable 
array. The engagement took place just below the 
heights, and lasted with determined bravery on both 
sides for some hours. The Mayence men proved most 
disastrous to the Vendeans. However, victory finally 
decided for the royalists, upon the bridge of Chateau- 
Gonthier, despite the gallant efforts of the republican 
General Bloss. The enemy was driven into the river, 
save a miserable remnant of their army, which took 
shelter within the walls of Chateau-Gonthier. 

"What, my friends," cried Larochejaquelein, "are 
the conquerors to sleep outside and the vanquished 
within the walls ? We have not finished yet." 

In a few hours they had driven the enemy from the 



HENRI DE LARO CHE J A Q UELEIN. 



237 



town. Towards midnight, however, the Blues made 
a last effort to retrieve their losses, and were finally put to 
flight. Historians declare that by the skilful arrange- 
ment of his troops, his adroit manoeuvres, no less than 
his wonderful intrepidity, Larochejaquelein on this oc- 
casion displayed the qualities of a great general. 

He now divided his army into three great columns. 
Proceeding onwards, he gained fresh victories, and hav- 
ing carried Fougeres and Ernee, began to contemplate 
an attack upon Dol. Whilst at Ernee, Larochejaque- 
lein lost his kinsman and devoted friend. Lescure died a 
most saintly death, which is touchingly described by his 
widow in her memoirs of the time; to her he declared 
that besides leaving her unprotected, his sole regret 
in dying was that he could not place his king upon 
the throne. When the grief-stricken widow first met 
Larochejaquelein after her husband's death, she ex- 
claimed: 

" You have lost your best friend. After me, you were 
dearest to him of all in the world." 

" Could my life restore him to you," replied Laroche- 
jaquelein, "take it." 

The body of the departed chief was buried quietly. 
The traces of the hair-shirt which he had always worn 
were not needed to convince those who had been his as- 
sociates of the holiness and austerity of his life. 

On the evening of the 14th November, the royalists 
assailed Granville. The troops were, however, dis- 
heartened, and no efforts on the part of their leaders 
could rouse them to enthusiasm. Still, a small force 
of republicans sent to repulse the besiegers were de- 
feated, and the royalists, approaching nearer, began 
a destructive fire upon the garrison. The republican 
commander, Lecarpentier, ordered the suburbs to be 
fired, but even this did not repel the dauntless Vendeans. 



238 



NAMES THAT LIVE. 



They seized upon some military stores, and would at 
once have commenced a breach, but for the want of 
proper artillery. 

An escalade was suggested; but no scaling-ladders 
were at hand. After a moment of indecision, they 
thrust their bayonets into crevices of the wall, and 
mounted by that means. Larochejaquelein and Fores- 
tier, their leaders, had already reached the top, when- 
some voices in the rear of the royal ranks raised the cry 
of treason. "We are betrayed; let us fly." The Ven- 
deans who had followed their leaders to the ramparts 
rushed tumultuously back; the wildest disorder pre- 
vailed; the hope of the republicans revived, and in a 
short time victory was theirs. 

In the gray dawn of the following morning, Laroche- 
jaquelein and Stofflet, in accordance with a pre-concerted 
plan, attacked the town by water. The attempt was 
a failure, the republicans having provided against it. 
Moreover, the royalists now met with a disappointment. 
Arms and ammunition from England had been promised 
them; they had refused to accept any other aid from a 
country which had ever been the enemy of France. No 
sign of the English fleet, however, appeared; and, more 
than ever disheartened, they were compelled to retreat 
from Granville. 

A skirmish took place at Pontorson, upon which the 
Vendeans had fallen back. It proved disastrous to the 
republicans, the Vendeans gaining the day, with consid- 
erable loss to the enemy. Here, we are told, friend and 
foe alike demanded the aids of religion, and the priests 
hastened hither and thither, administering indiscrimi- 
nately to republican and royalist. 

The Vendeans were now destitute of everything, shoes, 
clothing, and, worst of all, food. Scores of gallant sol- 
diers died of starvation, and those who survived endured 



HENRI DE LA R 0 CHE J A Q UELEIN. 



the most terrible hardships. In this condition they 
were compelled to meet a numerous and well-provisioned 
army, under Kleber and Westermann. This engage- 
ment, which proved to be one of the most important of 
the campaign, took place at Dol. The republicans, burn- 
ing to avenge their late defeats, and thirsting for the 
blood of the Vendean heroes, precipitated an engage- 
ment, which, but for the prudence and foresight of 
Larochejaquelein, who drew up his troops in order 
of battle, would have been fatal to the Catholic army. 

The battle commenced soon after midnight. The 
night was intensely dark; the field was lit only by 
torches, and the flash of artillery and musketry was more 
appalling in the gloom. Noise and confusion prevailed 
throughout; it would seem that chaos had again come 
upon the earth. The courage of the royalists was at its 
lowest ebb; but their indomitable chief, still full of 
impetuous valor, sought to communicate to them a 
spark of his own ardor. With that wing of the army 
which was under his command, he succeeded in driving 
the vanguard of the foe back to Pontorson. Meanwhile 
Stofflet and Talmont were making a brave resist- 
ance; they succeeded, by a vigorous onslaught, in repuls- 
ing the republicans; but so terrific was the return charge 
of the enemy that the royalists were driven back, and 
even Stofflet compelled to leave the field. Larocheja- 
quelein, appearing at the moment, and taking in at a 
glance the critical situation, rushed into their very midst, 
shouting the inspiring war-cry and calling upon the 
terrified peasants to rally. Deaf to every voice but that 
of fear, the royalists sought only for some means of 
escape. In their mad terror, women, children, the 
wounded, and the dying were left behind. At this 
juncture a venerable priest, the cure of Ste. Marie-de- 
Rhe, sprang upon a high mound of earth, and holding 



240 



NAMES THAT LIVE. 



aloft a large crucifix, called upon the soldiers to take 
courage therefrom. He spoke to them sternly and 
authoritatively. 

"Will you," he cried, "be guilty of the infamy of 
abandoning your wives and children to the knives of 
the Blues ? Return and fight; it is the only way of sav- 
ing them. Will you abandon your general in the midst 
of his foes ? Come, my children, I will march at ) r our 
head with the crucifix! Kneel down, you who are will- 
ing to follow me, and I will give you absolution; if you 
die, you will go to heaven; whilst those who betray God 
and leave their families to perish will go to perdition." 

By a spontaneous impulse, two thousand men knelt to 
receive the remission of their sins; then, placing them- 
selves under the standard of Larochejaquelein, they 
rushed once more to combat. 

"Nous allons en paradis ! " " Vive le rot! " * rang out in 
one enthusiastic shout which seemed to pierce the night- 
shadowed heavens. 

When they reached their hero's side, he was standing 
alone, with his arms crossed upon his breast, facing a 
battery. When he saw that not a man remained by his 
side, and that resistance was useless, he stood thus, 
braving death, too proud to turn his back upon the foe. 
Never yet in all the fierce ordeals of many battles had 
he done so, nor would he now commence. News came 
to him that Talmont was endeavoring to keep another 
portion of the field with only eight hundred men. Hasten- 
ing to his assistance, he succeeded in rallying upon the 
way a mere handful of men, but they managed to hold 
their position till the Cure of Ste. Marie came up with 
his two thousand followers. Almost simultaneously 
Stofflet returned, and the hard-fought field was won by 



"We are going to heaven !" " Long live the king!" 



HENRI DE LA R 0 CHE J A Q UELEIN. 



the royal forces. The Cure headed them on their en- 
trance to the town, chanting the "Vexilla Regis," and 
holding aloft that crucifix the sight of which had so 
often inspired the men in the battle's fiercest rage. 

This victor^ 7 was but the beginning of a series of con- 
quests by which the royalists were strengthened and 
encouraged. Larochejaquelein now suggested that they 
should return to Granville, and there await the English 
supplies, but the peasants loudly declared that they 
would return to La Vendee. Their leader, submitting, 
reluctantly proceeded towards Angers. 

A noble act of mercy, said to have been first suggested 
by the Cure of Ste. Marie, was now performed. A hun- 
dred and fifty wounded republicans, who had been taken 
prisoners, were sent to their camp at Rennes with the 
message that " thus did the royal and Catholic army 
take vengeance on its foes." On the morning of the 4th 
December, the attack upon Angers took place. A heavy 
fire of artillery was continued during the day, but with- 
out much result. On the following day cannonading 
was again opened by the Vendeans upon St. Michael's 
Gate. After some hours' severe fighting a breach was 
made. Here, as everywhere else, the soldiers displayed 
indecision and discouragement; the chiefs gave them a 
noble example by rushing onwards themselves into the 
breach. Not a man followed, and all save Larocheja- 
quelein, Piron, and Forestier perished, The remnant of 
the army retreated to Bauge. 

When they had advanced within a short distance of 
La Fleche they found the bridge cut down and the 
opposite shore defended by a strong republican force. 
Larochejaquelein, leaving Piron to defend their first 
position, chose four hundred of the cavalry, each of whom 
took a foot-soldier upon his crupper. They rode some 
distance up the Loire, where they managed to ford the 



242 



NAMES THA T LIVE. 



river, their leader going first. They met and surprised 
the garrison, took the town, regained the bridge, and 
saved the army by a vigorous charge. Larochejaque- 
lein was hailed with acclamation as a great soldier and 
general, and upon his brow were bound fresh laurels. 

The Vendeans were, however, in terrible straits; no 
provisions were to be had, and famine was daily and 
hourly enfeebling the remnants of that once vigorous 
army. Despair was in every heart and all too plainly 
written upon every face. Larochejaquelein alone, still 
undismayed, made an assault upon the town of Mans, 
which he succeeded in taking, and there a small supply 
of provisions was obtained. He made an effort to reach 
Ancenis, where he hoped to cross the Loire. He was 
terribly harassed upon the passage by the republicans. 
At Foultourte, a village through which they passed, the 
Blues, under Marceaux, a celebrated republican leader, 
supported by Kleber and Westermann, determined to 
stop the progress of the Vendeans towards x\ncenis and 
cut off the remnant of their army. 

Though fully aware of their slight chance of success, 
Larochejaquelein, with his usual energy and presence 
of mind, made every preparation for a determined resist- 
ance. He rallied his troops, especially the cavalry; and 
by prayers and entreaties prevailed upon the fugitives 
to return and share the fate of their comrades. Taking 
three thousand picked men. he placed them in ambush 
behind some fir-trees, whence they succeeded in repulsing 
Westermann and Miiller. 

This effort seemed to have exhausted their remaining 
strength, and the peasants began to waver. Larocheja- 
quelein rushed forward, making a desperate charge upon 
the enemy's centre, but he was not supported. Return- 
ing, he called upon the haggard, hollow-eyed men who 
remained to follow him, besought them in tones of pas- 



HENRI DE LA R O CHE J A Q UELEIN. 



sionate entreaty, or commanded them resolutely and 
sternly; but alike in vain: they suffered him to rush on 
to the attack almost alone. Again the heroic chief 
returned, and made a third and last effort to rouse them; 
but again without avail. Loyalty, courage, honor, all 
seemed alike to have deserted the half-starving men. 
Hope was dead within their hearts, and again they met 
with a most disastrous defeat. Having retreated within 
the walls, they gave themselves up to utter despair. 
Westermann attacked them at midnight, and their in- 
domitable leader again exhorted them at least to sell 
their lives dearly. But, alas! they only replied that a 
few hours longer or shorter mattered not, when they 
must die. For the first time positive despair and a sort 
of frenzy seemed to take possession of Larochejaquelein. 
Riding through the streets, he forced a few thousand 
men to take up arms, but the total want of discipline 
amongst them neutralized the efforts of their leaders. 
The battle was both fierce and bloody, but the final blow 
was dealt to the royalist cause in La Vendee. When the 
Vendeans began their retreat, Larochejaquelein with 
other leaders, amongst whom were the afterwards famous 
Jean Chouan and George Cadoudal, defended the town 
to the last, and covered the confused flight of their com- 
rades. 

An incident is here related of Stofflet which proves 
that the old chivalric spirit still remained amongst many 
of the royalist leaders. Having collected the tattered 
remnants of his flag, he- was about leaving the town 
when in a narrow street he met an officer named de 
Scepaux, who with two comrades had mounted a gun in 
order to assist in covering the retreat of their companions. 
Stofflet stopped, ordered de Scepaux to mount his horse, 
take the flag, and leave him to serve the gun. 

"No, my general," replied de Scepaux, "save the flag 



244 



NAMES THAT LIVE. 



yourself; it is in good hands. I remain here while a 
grain of powder or a ball is left." 

" The Blues shall have me," replied Stofflet, " before 
they have our flag. If they send it to the Convention, 
they shall also send my head." 

As Stofflet passed out of the town a poor woman who 
lay bleeding by the roadside recognized him, and begged 
him to save her child. "Give it here," he cried, and 
placing it in front of his horse, with the flag, rode out of 
the town. Years afterwards the child was restored to its 
mother, whose life had been preserved. 

The royalists hastened on to Ancenis, hoping to cross 
the Loire. Larochejaquelein and Stofflet with eighteen 
men made the passage of the river in two frail fishing- 
smacks, their progress being watched with intense eager- 
ness by the entire army. On landing they were attacked 
by a small force of republicans, and compelled to con- 
ceal themselves in the heart of the country. 

Meanwhile a hostile vessel sailed down the river and 
sank some rafts on which the Vendeans had hoped to 
cross. Consternation spread through their ranks; a de- 
tachment of the enemy under Westermann coming up, 
an engagement was inevitable. The poor broken-spirited 
peasants, roused by the distant view of their fondly loved 
La Vendee, made one last effort and drove the repub- 
licans back. But the main body of their troops arriving, 
the peasants either fled in dismay or gave themselves 
up to their foes. Only a mere handful succeeded in 
crossing the river. Thus were they separated from their 
leader at the very crisis of their fate. 

Larochejaquelein, having penetrated into the heart of 
the country, came, after many wanderings, to a farm- 
house in Chatillon, where he took shelter. His adven- 
tures at this time remind us rather of those attributed to 
heroes of romance than of sober reality. Still fearful of 



HENRI DE LA R 0 CHE J A Q UELEIN. 



245 



discovery, he was driven to seek an asylum amid the 
ruins of his ancestral chateau of Durbelieres. Here he 
remained for a considerable time; under cover of the 
darkness he stole out by night to seek provisions; and in 
this solitude lived over again the fierce, exciting, and 
most glorious struggle in which he had been engaged, 
devising new plans for a final effort in favor of God and 
king and country. For, inspired by the crumbling walls 
and ancient towers, by the storied tombs of his brave 
forefathers, he, their worthy descendant, full of indom- 
itable valor, told himself that all was not lost, and that 
La Vendee should take the field again as the sworn 
champion of the good cause. 

But even in this ruined haunt of the owl and bat he 
was not safe. News of his whereabouts having been 
conveyed to the republican camp hard by, a detachment 
was sent to make him prisoner. He concealed himself 
by lying on the entablature of that portion of the facade 
still remaining. After a hasty search the enemy with- 
drew, and Larochejaquelein escaped to Poitou, where 
he joined Charette. 

This great leader, who, it seems, was jealous of 
Larochejaquelein's extraordinary influence over the 
peasantry of that region, received him with marked cold- 
ness. However, he said, "I am about departing for 
Mortagne; if you wish to follow me, I will see that you 
are provided with a horse." 

"I follow you?" said Larochejaquelein haughtily. "I 
beg you to understand, Monsieur, that I am accustomed 
to lead, not to follow; and that I am in command here." 

About eight hundred royalists consequently left 
Charette and ranged themselves under the banner of 
Larochejaquelein, whom they regarded as their hereditary 
chief. It is a matter of some surprise that the young 
hero should at such a crisis have shown himself so un- 



246 



NAMES THAT LIVE. 



usually mindful of his own interests. Hitherto his max- 
im had been that there must be no question of self when 
his country's welfare was at stake ; and upon this maxim 
he had invariably acted. 

However, the country never had more need of gallant 
hearts than then. The republican army, under General 
Cordelier, with what was called the " infernal columns," 
was devastating La Vendee on every side. Larocheja- 
quelein gained, soon after his arrival in Poitou, a series 
of victories over Cordelier. With such forces as he could 
collect he intrenched himself in the forest of Vezin. 
Their numbers were very few, but about that time they 
took among other prisoners an adjutant-general of the 
republican army, upon whom they found an order by 
which he was commanded to promise the peasants a safe- 
conduct, and having thus entrapped, to fall upon and 
slay them. So terrified were they that they flocked to 
join Larochejaquelein in great numbers. 

Being therefore reinforced and in command of a large 
army, he attacked General Cordelier at several points, 
each time defeating him with considerable loss to the 
republican force. The troops who held the town of 
Chollet made a sortie with intent to burn the town of 
Noisailles. As they were applying their blazing torches 
to the walls, Larochejaquelein rode up at the head of a 
detachment and completely routed them. It was a de- 
cisive victory, but the last which Larochejaquelein was 
ever to gain for the cause he loved. Pursuing the fugi- 
tives, he discovered two grenadiers hidden behind a 
hedge. Approaching them, he cried: 

" Surrender, and you shall have quarter!" 

The grenadiers reluctantly acquiesced, and were about 
to give up their arms. But at the moment one of the 
Vendean officers, riding up, called his leader by name, 
imploring him to hold no further parley with the prison- 



HENRI DE LA ROCHE J A Q UELEIN. 



ers. Larochejaquelein disregarded the advice, and went 
nearer to question the republicans. As he stooped 
to seize his musket, one of the grenadiers, taking aim, 
fired, and the hero fell backwards in his saddle — dead. 

So' perished on the 4th of June, 1793, one of the bright- 
est stars in that immortal galaxy of heroes, which 
La Vendee and its celebrated struggle produced. 
Great they were; but nowhere among them do we find 
one greater, more noble, more knightly than Henri de 
Larochejaquelein, the idolized boy-leader of La Vendee. 
He was buried quietly, without pomp or ceremony, so 
that perchance his death might escape the notice of 
the republicans, for well they knew the import of such 
a loss to the cause for which he had given his heart's 
blood. His soldiers bore him to a short distance from 
the place of his death, and there made him a grave where 
in summer-time the grass grew very green and a waving 
tree played at cross-bars with the sunshine. They laid 
him down softly and closed his bright eyes, those eyes 
which had flashed so proudly in the battle's fierce array; 
they smoothed back the hair from his forehead with al- 
most woman's gentleness; they hung again around his 
neck the rosary, which was the distinctive mark of the 
Catholic and royal army, together with the scapular 
worn upon the breast, which they now placed over his 
quiet heart. They laid by as a relic the knot of white 
ribbon, the colors of the cause, which he had ever kept 
pure and unsullied. With bitter, burning tears they 
looked their last upon the young and ardent face that 
had been so loved throughout La Vendee; upon the figure 
of their boy-hero, who in spite of all obstacles, with an 
army miserably provisioned and undisciplined, had won 
them sixteen battles within ten months. 

So the soldier of La Vendee was at rest, in the ob- 
scure grave wherein his body remained till 1815. It 



248 



NAMES THAT LIVE. 



was then exhumed and conveyed to the parish church 
of Chollet, whence it was again removed. It was finally 
interred with the bones of his ancestors near the old feudal 
castle of St. Aubin, where, as a child, he had dreamed 
boyish dreams of fame and glory; where he had gazed 
with awe and wonder at the mail-clad figures of his fore- 
fathers, little guessing that he should take his place 
among them one day, adorned with a prouder title 
of nobility — the white streamer of La Vendee. 

The ancient manor was, as we have seen, destroyed by 
republican incendiaries; the portraits of his race, in all 
likelihood, have perished with it. But not alone in feudal 
hall or ancestral castle was the portrait of Henri de 
Larochejaquelein preserved. Even to the smallest de- 
tails of his personal appearance, it remains deep down 
in the hearts of the people, his memory enshrined with 
all that is most precious in their eyes, as a pfeux chevalier 
worthy to have lived in the grand old heroic times. 

The peasant at his peat fire, the noble in his hall, nay, 
even the very republican, who, we are told, sincerely 
mourned his death, alike recall with enthusiastic admira- 
tion the name and deeds of this noblest of a noble race, 
Henri, Marquis de Larochejaquelein, whose short career 
came to a close while he was still in his twenty-second 
year. 

Thus, O gallant boy, did thy young life flash out 
upon the midnight darkness of the revolutionary sky, 
and fade before the light of a new day had dawned for 
France. Many a fervent prayer was breathed over thy 
honored dust; many an eye has grown moist over the 
story of thy gallant deeds and untimely death; and many 
a young heart has caught from thine a kindred inspira- 
tion. 

But thou hast slept soundly in thine early grave, leav- 
ing to fame a pure, noble, and unsullied record. What 



HENRI DE LA R 0 CHE J A Q UELEIN. 



249 



though evil times may come again for France; thy task 
is done, and thou art once more united to thy gallant 
comrades, whose names, like thine own, have gone down 
to posterity, synonymous with what is grandest and 
bravest and holiest; pure among the pure, valiant among 
the valiant, loyal among the loyal, to God, to king, to 
country, their names stand out upon the roll of fame — 
the heroes of La Vendee. 



Henri de Larochejaquelein. 

FROM THE FRENCH OF ADRIEN DEZAMY. 

I saw, as a child, in the depths of La Vendee, 

Just between Tiffanges and Tortou, 
A peasant old and lame, with deeply wrinkled face, 

Who was called the Sangenitou. 
A last relic was he of that famous " Grand, Guerre," 

A Chouan and a hardy scout; 
Oft I heard him relate to a rustic, gaping crowd 

His adventures thereabout. 

14 My children," said he, " as I ne'er knew how to read, 

I know not the reason why, 
The Blues, first having killed the good king our sire, 

Burnt out such poor devils as I. 
Then my heart grew full of vengeance and bitter hate; 

I felt I could never yield, 
Seized a scythe, joined the men of Larochejaquelein, 

And rushed into the field. 

They tracked us like wolves whom they sought to entrap, 

For months, from morning till night; 
We insurgents of le Bocage in our retreat 

Sustained a despairing fight. 
Before the avalanche, forever at our head, 

Where danger was plainest to see, 
With scapular on breast and the white royal scarf, 

Sword in hand, Monsieur Henri. 



250 



NAMES THAT LIVE. 



A simple chief was he, with no pride in the world, 

Reckless when peril was nigh; 
I seem to see him now, his noble curling head 

When waving his hat on high. 
He rushed to the front: " Forward, lads, for God and King," 

Rang his words like trumpet-call; 
" If I lead, follow me; if I flinch, cut me down; 

And avenge me, if I fall !" 

Well, just then we had no balls, nor powder, nor bread, 

But at this inspiring cry 
Our army in sabots like a mountain torrent rushed 

On the Blues and their outposts nigh. 
I fell from the height of the talus above, 

My right leg was shattered before. 
I have limped since that time, boys, 'tis now sixty years, 

Very soon I shall limp no more. 

Thus he oft whiled away for us the long, dark nights; 

Round the wood fire, screened from cold, 
That warrior of the past, with failing voice and slow, 

Evoked for us days of old. 
Breathless and mute, we hung upon his words, 

While, with feeling rare to see, 
He ended with a sob the mournful history 

Of his brave Monsieur Henri. 





nmni 




11111111^ 



Souls of the slain i?i holy war, 

Look f?-o?n you?' sainted rest • 
Tell us ye rose in glory's car, 
To mingle with tJie blest/ 
Tell us how short the death-pang's power, 
How bright the joys of your immortal bower. 

Strike the loud harp, ye minstrel train I 

Pour forth your loftiest lays. 
Each heart shall echo to the strain 

Breattid i?i the warrior s praise. 

Crusader s War Song. — Hemaxs. 



Champion of the Cross and Defender of the Faith. 




ROM the remote age which gave him birth 
comes down to us the grand historic name of 
Simon de Montfort, to which has been added 
by common consent the titles of Defender of the Faith 
and Macchabeus. Anti-Catholic writers of all times 
have been unsparing in their denunciations of him, and 
too often covered his name with unmerited obloquy. It 
is our task to glance at him in the light of a great Chris- 
tian warrior, inspired with a lively zeal for the cause of 
religion and the welfare of his country. 

Simon de Montfort, fourth Count of the name, was 
bcrn in the latter half of the twelfth century, of a noble 
and distinguished family, who were seigneurs of a little 
town about ten leagues from Paris. They claimed de- 
scent from the illustrious house of Hainault. Of Si- 
mon's early life not many details come down to us, but 
we know that he was fortunate in his marriage with 
Alice de Montmorency. This lady was a worthy help- 
mate for so heroic a knight. She was full of the lofty 
spirit of her race, and no doubt had her share in the in- 
spiration which marked her husband's proud career. 

While De Montfort was still young an intense enthu- 
siasm prevailed throughout Europe. From north to 
south, from east to west, innumerable warriors girded 



254 



NAMES THAT LIVE. 



themselves for a mighty struggle. They received upon 
their shoulder the red cross of the Crusader, and for- 
sook their homes and kindred ; forsook the sunny 
shores of France, the homes of Saxon comfort or of 
Norman luxury, and set sail over the great waters to 
classic Greece or martial Cyprus, thence to Palestine. 
Montfort was young, ardent, chivalrous. Home was 
sweet and friends were dear, but mightier voices called 
him. Pope Innocent III. had proclaimed a fourth Cru- 
sade, and under the leadership of Boniface, Marquis of 
Montferrat, sailed Montfort. With this attempt, which 
only succeeded in establishing a short-lived Latin empire 
at Constantinople, our sketch has little to do. 

Of Montfort we learn that he left his companions at 
Zara, and proceeded himself to Palestine. The day of 
his glory was yet, however, to come, and we shall now 
briefly glance at the train of events which made him at 
once the deliverer of his country and the protector of 
his co-religionists. During the absence of the western 
lords in Palestine a dangerous body of heretics had 
arisen, who were not only hostile to the Church, but 
subversive of all social order. They became known as 
Albigenses — most writers agree, from the province of 
Albi or Albigensis. Their doctrines were most repulsive 
and unnatural, and they were besides daring and un- 
scrupulous rebels, dangerous to the peace and safety of 
the state.* 

These heretics ravaged the lands, burned monasteries, 
assassinated priests, pillaged churches, and profaned 
holy things. For political reasons, a powerful leader of 

* Notes to Alban Butler's Lives of the Saints, vol. viii. ; Legendes 
des Croisades, by Collin de Plancy; Feller's Biographie Universelle, 
vol. vi. ; Vaissette's Histoire Generale de Languedoc; Alzog's Hist, 
of the Universal Church, vol. ii.; Darras's General Hist, of the 
Church, vol. iii. 



SIMON DE MONTFORT. 



255 



the day, Raymond, Count of Toulouse, espoused their 
cause, lending them every support in his power, and 
hoping by this means to increase his own estates. Inno- 
cent III., having, as his predecessors had, loudly de- 
nounced the heresy, sent into France his Legate, the 
saintly Peter of Castelnau, with various monks of the 
Order of Citeaux, to exercise their apostolate among 
these heretics. The Bishop of Osma, Diego, and 
some of the secular clergy, joined these devoted mis- 
sionaries. Barefoot they went from city to city through 
the province of Languedoc, calling upon sinners to do 
penance for their sins and return to the way of God. 
Peter of Castelnau was often heard to say: "The cause 
of Christ cannot flourish in this country until one of the 
missionaries has shed his blood for the faith. May I be 
the first victim of the persecution!" Too surely was his 
prayer heard. On the 3d of January, 1208, the Legate 
was assassinated, as it was supposed by two of Ray- 
mond's officers. He died, crying out, " O Lord, forgive 
him as I do !" 

This was the signal for a general rising against the 
Albigenses, who had already provoked the nation be- 
yond the limits of endurance. "Military expeditions," 
says an eminent German writer, "sent against the Al- 
bigenses were laudable in their object and useful in their 
results. The spirit of their heresy was the overthrow 
of the essential principles which constitute society. A 
general cry of indignation went up from all the land. 
Like modern socialists, they put the torch to whatever the 
people had learned to love and respect. All the sover- 
eigns of the day were unanimous in calling for their sup- 
pression. Frederic II., the bitterest enemy of the Pope, 
in framing laws for the government of Sicily decreed 
the most fearful punishments against these sectaries. 
When plundered monasteries, ruined churches, pillaged 



256 



NAMES THAT LIVE. 



and wasted cities attested by their smoking ruins the 
fury of the fanatical sectaries, a general cry of indigna- 
tion went up from all the land; and could we expect 
that the Christian society of the twelfth century should 
have stood a passive witness of these sacrilegious vota- 
ries ? The outcry against these deeds of violence was 
not confined to the Pope and the Bishops. All the sov- 
ereigns of the day were unanimous in calling for their 
suppression." * 

At this juncture God raised up to his people one who 
was to be a leader in Israel. St. Dominic was already 
the champion of the good cause by prayer and preach- 
ing, but Simon de Montfort was destined by the power 
of the sword to strike a definite blow at this monstrous 
evil. Innocent III. excommunicated Raymond, and 
called upon the knights, barons, and nobles of France 
to unite in a crusade for the peace and safety of their 
country and for the honor of God. Forty thousand 
men answered to the appeal, and at their head was Si- 
mon, whom a chronicler describes as "an equally fear- 
less soldier and skilful captain, one of the finest types 
of the chivalry of the day." "A more intrepid warrior 
and faithful Christian could not have been chosen," con- 
tinues the same author; " to the fearless daring of Cceur 
de Lion he joined the fervent piety of a religious." 

Eagerly the proudest chivalry of France advanced to 
receive the sacred ensign of the cross, worn this time 
upon the breast, in contradistinction to those who fought 
in the Oriental wars, wearing it upon their shoulder. 
Amongst those who engaged in the enterprise was 



* We have quoted thus at length from the Abbe Darras in his 
General Hist, of the Church, vol. iii. p. 423, because it seems of im- 
portance to establish the fact, in which all impartial historians concur, 
that these heretics were a social pest as well as a religious evil. 



SIMON DE MONTFORT. 



257 



Louis, son of Philip Augustus, who was the then reign- 
ing king of France, and husband of Blanche of Castile, 
consequently the father of St. Louis. On this great day 
of enthusiastic demonstration the tall and martial figure 
of Montfort was everywhere conspicuous. The devoted 
multitude were fired with a holy zeal and ardent patriot- 
ism. Louis and Arnaud, the Abbot of Citeaux, who 
was the Papal Legate, united with Montfort in the lead- 
ership of the expedition. "I cannot fall," cried Mont- 
fort, setting out to battle, " f or the whole Church is 
praying for me !" A campaign of three years was an 
uninterrupted series of attacks upon the various strong- 
holds of the Albigenses, in most of which the standard 
of the cross was victorious. Beziers was the first place 
of importance taken by the Catholic army, but this vic- 
tory was soon followed by that of Carcassonne. The 
surrender of this latter place was a fatal blow to the 
power of the heretics, and brought innumerable recruits 
to swell the ranks of the crusaders. Montfort had al- 
ready distinguished himself by a valor remarkable even 
in those days of heroic enterprise. He was soon raised 
to the sole command of the army, and invested with the 
domains of the excommunicated Vicomte de Beziers. 

Lavaus was a great stronghold of the enemy. Their 
infamous doctrines were rife among the townspeople. 
Melancholy spectacle! that Lavaus which had been so 
Catholic a city, where the solemn bells had been heard 
at evening recalling Christ's Incarnation; where on Sab- 
bath mornings they had proclaimed the hour of Mass 
and filled with sweet sounds the air of Catholic France. 
There, in winter nights, old tales were told of the heroic 
men now mouldering into dust upon the sands of Pal- 
estine, the descendants of whom were swelling the Chris- 
tian host which now beleaguered the walls of the once 
faithful town. There had been peace among the towns- 



258 



NAMES THAT LIVE. 



people in days of old, the sunshine of God's peace, sweet- 
ening all their daily lives as they followed the faith of 
their fathers and worshipped at the same altars. But in 
their present repulsive creed, the green and beautiful 
earth and all the wonders of the universe were the crea- 
tion of the rebel spirit Lucifer. They renounced all 
family ties and forbade the sacred bond of marriage. 
Hence the gloom of their unholy doctrines shadowed 
their streets and dwellings as with a pall. 

On the plains outside the city was encamped the 
Christian army with Montfort at its head. Dawn broke 
cold and white upon the tents of the besiegers, and over 
the beleaguered town evening cast its myriad lights 
upon them; night came darkly, and the crusaders slept 
in the shadow of the walls which separated them from 
their foes. All was still save the footsteps of the senti- 
nels, who kept their watch mute and vigilant as the stars 
above them. 

Days passed into weeks, and weeks into months, be- 
fore the day of victory came to gladden the hearts of 
the weary crusaders and strike terror into their foes. 
Montfort was at their head. His noble charger led the 
van; his warlike figure towered above his brother- 
knights. All day long the battle raged with undimin- 
ished fury. There was clashing of arms and clank of 
knightly steel, the neighing of war-horses, the shouts of 
the combatants, and the groans of the dying. High 
above all, mighty as the rushing of mountain torrents, 
was the sound of the hymns which the crusaders 
chanted to the God of Battles. Undaunted and inde- 
fatigable, Montfort was ever in the thickest of the fight. 
His very presence filled the soldiers with enthusiasm. 
Waving his sword above his head he cheered his follow- 
ers on, or wielding his ponderous battle-axe he carried 
death to the ranks of the foemen. His clarion tones 



SIMON DE MONTFORT. 



259 



were heard ever and anon calling upon the Christian 
knighthood of France to follow him to the death for 
God, for France, and for their holy Church. 

The charge was made, ardent and impetuous, fiery 
and irresistible; the walls were scaled, a breach effected. 
The God of Battles had given them the day. The city 
gates were thrown wide; the Christian army streamed 
through the portals. 

Would that we might close our eyes upon the scene 
of carnage which ensued! The crusaders, infuriated by 
the long resistance offered them, put to the sword the 
hapless wretches who had been the city's defenders. It 
is but little extenuation of their cruelty that their ene- 
mies were stained with horrid crimes, or that they had 
massacred the consecrated ones of God and spread 
death and desolation through many fair provinces of 
France. The conquerors were Christians, knights and 
gentlemen; their gentle breeding and the noble cause 
they served would have been best honored by an exer- 
cise of mercy. But while we condemn them in all sin- 
cerity, and deplore that this stain should rest upon the 
character of Montfort, who in all other respects was the 
flower of Christian chivalry, let us remember that this 
stern and merciless justice which he meted out was the 
outcome of his century. A learned writer * remarks 
upon this subject: "A moment's reflection on the 
character and tendency of their teaching will go far to 
supply the motives of their severe treatment. The con- 
sequences of their spiritual tenets reached out until they 
embraced all the relations of political, commercial, and 
social life, and were subversive of them all." He goes 
on to say, in the same connection : 

" When the sanguinary cruelties committed in the cru- 



Alzog, Hist, of the Universal Church, vol. ii. 



260 



NAMES THA T LIVE. 



sade came to the knowledge of Pope Innocent, he was 
borne down with grief. It was a source of sorrow to him 
that such deeds of violence should have been indulged 
in by those professing themselves the champions of the 
faith, and it was no alleviation of his feelings to know that 
the partisans of error had been equally guilty of them." * 

We must, however, consider that the patience of the 
people of France had been sorely tried by the incessant 
misdemeanors of these fanatics, and that Simon de 
Montfort personally had an inherent horror of vice, 
which made their excesses peculiarly abhorrent to him. 
His predominant characteristic was justice. A justice 
severe and inexorable, indeed, but equally so to himself. 
He was never known to deviate in the smallest degree 
from his word nor from what he held to be the straight 
path of duty. In fine, let us remember that we can 
scarcely put ourselves in the identical circumstances in 
which he found himself, nor invest ourselves with the 
spirit of that age. 

As we have glanced at this severity, which is seized 
upon by enemies of truth as the essential attribute of 
this illustrious warrior, let us pause a moment to con- 
sider those qualities in which he commands our high- 
est admiration. Brave and intrepid to an unusual de- 
gree, even in an age of valor and great exploits, he 
united with this courage an imperturbable coolness 
which never deserted him even in the heat of battle. 
No emotion howsoever deep and powerful ever sufficed 
to throw him off his guard. This it was that made him 
unsurpassed as a leader. He was endowed, too, with 
a remarkably clear perception, and was in the council- 
chamber as wise and prudent as on the battle-field war- 
like and martial. He was affable and courteous in man- 



*Alzog, vol. ii. p. 667; Hurter, Innocent III., vol. ii. p. 692. 



SIMON DE MONTFORT. 



ner, winning by his soldierly frankness of bearing the 
hearts of all who approached him.* So that old chroni- 
clers tell us he had no other enemies than those of Holy 
Church, and though much respected by all who came 
in contact with him, was also much beloved. He was 
remarkably religious, never failing to hear Mass every 
day and to receive Holy Communion once a week. His 
zeal is said by historians to have been truly apostolic; and 
of his faith the following illustration is given: "He was 
told that our Saviour, under the Consecrated Host, had 
appeared visibly in the hands of the priest. Full of gen- 
erous faith, he exclaimed, ' Let those go to see it who 
doubt it; as for myself, I believe firmly the truth of the 
Eucharistic Mystery as our Mother Church teaches it. 
Hence I hope to receive in heaven a crown more bril- 
liant than those of the angels, for they, being face to 
face with God, have not the power to doubt.' " f Well 
might he be called " the gallant champion of the Cross 
and the invincible defender of the Catholic faith." 

Meantime the fortunes of war turned steadily in favor 
of the crusaders, though Raymond of Toulouse had 
called to his assistanc his brother-in-law, Peter of Arra- 
gon. Montfort, attacked in Castelnaudary by the here- 
tics, made a sortie at the head of a handful of men, and 
gained a complete victory. He walked barefoot to the 
church in thanksgiving therefor. He was again besieged 
in Muret, a small town upon the Garonne, by a force of 
one hundred thousand, under the leadership of Counts 
Raymond, de Foix, and Comminges, supported by Peter 
of Arragon. To human eyes the fate of De Montfort 
and his valiant band was sealed. Within the walls de- 

*See Joinville, edition of 1761; F. X. de Feller's Biographie 

Universelle, vol. vi. ; Butler's Lives of the Saints, vol. viii. ; Lacor- 
daire's Vie de St. Dominique. 

f Miiller, Devotion of the Rosary. 



262 NAMES THAT LIVE. 

spair was on every face save that of trie gallant leader. 
Nobly he rallied his little garrison about him. and be- 
sought them by all they held dear to fight as men had 
never fought before. A sortie was planned and execu- 
ted with the small force at his command. 

On the morning of that eventful day he laid his 
sword upon the altar. When the hour of battle came 
he took it thence with these words: " From Thee, O 
Lord, do I this day receive my arms, since I must wield 
them in Thy holy cause." * 

Can we wonder that a complete and glorious victory 
rewarded faith so sublime ? Never in the annals of any 
wars was a battle gained under less auspicious circum- 
stances. " His skilful dispositions, as well as his irresist- 
ible courage, disconcerted the confederates from the 
first." Peter of Arragon was killed. Montfort gave 
public thanks for the victory, and we are told disposed 
of the dead king's armor for the benefit of the poor.f 

By the decision of the Fourth General Council of 
Lateran the possessions of the excommunicated Count 
of Toulouse were given to Simon de Montfort. He was 
obliged, however, to receive the investiture from the 
king of France and pay him feudal tribute. The do- 
mains were to revert to the son of Raymond, who was a 
good Catholic. 

Under their intrepid leader the crusaders now swept 
all before them, and obtained possession of l'Agenais, 
the territory of Comminges, and all the Toulousian prov- 
inces. 

The siege of Toulouse, which, we are told, "the 
intrepid Montfort, despising all obstacles and every 
peril, now undertook," was an occasion of much trial 



* Darras, Hist, of the Church, vol. iii. p. 336. 
fGazeau, History of the Middle Ages. 



SIM OX BE M OX T FORT. 



263 



and endurance for the Christian leader, and finally 
ended his glorious but all too brief career as de- 
fender of the Cross. After a siege of nine months he 
found himself totally without resource, his army dis- 
couraged and exhausted. He had, moreover, to accept 
with ready resignation the reproaches of those who 
should most have sustained him. But Montfort's in- 
domitable heart rose superior to all misfortunes.* On 
the 25th of June, 12 18, he went according to custom to 
early Mass. Just as Mass was beginning the sound of 
mail-clad feet was heard coming up the nave. A mes- 
senger advanced to where Montfort was kneeling. 

" My lord count," said he, " the enemy has made a sally, 
and the Christian cause is in fearful peril. Our army 
wavers. Come, my lord, without delay, or the day is 
lost." 

" Nevertheless," said Montfort tranquilly, " I will not 
leave the church until I adore my God." 

Calmly he knelt, amid the dim religious quiet of the 
church, pondering upon that Mystery of the altar which 
he had spent years in defending. He prayed ardently, 
indeed, for the wavering Christian cause, and begged 
that the enemy might not prevail against it. The mo- 
ment of Consecration came. Montfort, the greatest sol- 
dier of his age, prostrated himself with fervent, child- 
like faith. Adoring the Sacred Host, he exclaimed, 
" Nunc Dimittis" — " Now, O Lord, let Thy servant depart 
in peace." He had adored the living God for the last 
time upon earth. Immediately after the Elevation he 
rushed from the church, crying, " Now onward to death 
for Him who suffered death for us!" f 

* Histoire de l'Eglise, par M, l'Abbe de Berault-Bercastel, vol. xii. 
pp. 470-472, where can be found further particulars of the siege of 
Toulouse. 

f Ibid. 



264 



NAMES THAT LIVE. 



He placed himself at the head of his knightly phalanx. 
He fought with an ardor which even he had never sur- 
passed. That mighty sword, which, historians relate, 
carried terror by its every movement to the hearts of his 
foes, flashed in the thickest of the fight. The struggle 
was desperate, but Montfort succeeded in driving the 
enemy back within their ramparts. At the very mo- 
ment when victory seemed theirs the illustrious leader 
fell mortally wounded amid a shower of arrows and 
stones. He beat his breast, recommending his soul to 
God and the Blessed Virgin, and so doing expired. 
Truly his was a death worthy a crusader, for he fell 
sword in hand, facing the enemy, and offering his soul 
to God. 

A month later his son, Amauri, was obliged to raise the 
siege, but the power of the Albigenses in France was at 
an end. Montfort had overthrown this formidable en- 
emy of his race and religion, and in the reign of St. 
Louij the last remnants of them disappeared. As a final 
testimony against these sectaries, for the downfall of 
whom the illustrious hero gave his life, we may quote 
the words of Raymond of Toulouse himself, when he 
appeared before the General Chapter of Citeaux, "com- 
plaining with tears that the Albigenses, for whom he had 
so long fought, wasted his territory and ruined his vas- 
sals." Bowed down by age and grief, he made the fol- 
lowing energetic protest: 

"My gray hairs," he said, "are outraged. Men are 
dragged along by the torrent of corruption. My decrees 
are despised; the laws of the Church are trampled upon; 
there is nothing left but to appeal to arms. I shall call 
upon the king of France to meet the heretics, and give 
the last drop of my own blood in this cause, too happy 
if I can but help to crush so dangerous a sect."* 



*Darras, vol. iii. 



SIMON DE MOXTFORT. 



265 



The Abbe Darras adds: " The Church in organizing a 
crusade against these formidable enemies protected 
European unity, crushed the socialism of that day, se- 
cured general tranquillity and the existence of modern 
society." 

So it was, indeed, in a glorious cause for which Simon, 
Count de Montfort shed his blood and gave his noble 
life. To our thinking he is the grandest figure of his 
century, the model of an accomplished knight, and a 
fine example to Christians. If this sketch has lent its 
mite towards placing him in the true light before Cath- 
olics, our task is fully done and the slight labor it has 
cost us is amply repaid. Simon de Montfort belongs to 
that class of Christian heroes of all places and of all 
times, who are misunderstood even by their coreligion- 
ists. The key to the enigma is very simple. Such men 
have been maligned and misrepresented by authors hos- 
tile to the principles for which they strove, and it is the 
writings of these authors that are unfortunately most 
frequently brought before the eyes of the Catholic read- 
ing public. The larger portion of English literature 
deals out praise to heroes of a different kind. If the 
tribute we would fain offer to the memory of the illus- 
trious Montfort falls far short of our subject and of our 
own desire, we can ask the indulgence of the reader. 
Simon de Montfort lives and must live forever. Well 
might he say, in the words of Horace: 

" I will tarry- no longer 
On this earth; but victorious o'er envy, two-formed, 
I abandon the cities of men. 

I shall not pass away through the portals of death; 
I shall not be hemmed round by the waters of Styx. 
Not for me raise the death-dirge, my urn shall be empty; 
Hush the vain ceremonial of groans that degrade me 
And waste not the honors ye pay to the dead 
On a tomb in whose silence I shall not repose." 



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